Reviews of Books

BARRY CUNLIFFE. Europe between the Oceans: Themes and Variations: gooo BCAD 1000. New Haven, C T and London: Yale University Press, 2008. Pp. ix, 518. $39.95 (US). Reviewed by Martin W. Lewis AYSE DEVRIM ATAUZ. Eight Thousand Years of Maltese Maritime History: Trade, Piracy, and Naval Warfare in the Central Mediterranean. Gainesville, FL: University Press of Florida, 2008. Pp. xiv, 379. $69.95 (US). Reviewed by Victor Mallia-Milanes IAN WORTHINGTON. Philip II of Macedonia. New Haven, CT and London: Yale University Press, 2008. Pp. xx, 303. $35.00 (US). Reviewed by Craige B. Champion FEDERICO SANTANGELO. Sulla, the Elites, and the Empire: A Study of Roman Policies in Italy and the Greek East. Leiden: Brill, 2007. Pp. xix, 230. €99.00. Reviewed by Arthur M. Eckstein ROSAMOND MCKITTERICK. Charlemagne: The Formation of a European Identity. New York, NY: Cambridge University Press, 2008. Pp. xviii, 460. $29.99 (US), paper.Reviewed by David S. Bachrach STEVE FLANDERS. De Courcy: Anglo-Normans in Ireland, England, and France in the Eleventh and Twelfth Centuries. Dublin and Portland, OR: Four Courts Press, 2008. Pp. 205. $75.00 (US). Reviewed by Hugh M. Thomas JONATHAN RILEY-SMITH. The Crusades, Christianity, and Islam. New York, NY: Columbia University Press, 2008. Pp. 125. $24.50 (US). Reviewed by John France NORMAN HOUSLEY. Fighting for the Cross: Crusading to the Holy Land. New Haven, CT and London: Yale University Press, 2008. Pp. xiv, 357. $38.00 (US).Reviewed by Christopher Tyerman BERNARD BARBICHE in collaboration with Ségolène de Dainville-Barbiche. Bulla, Legatus, Nuntius: Études de diplomatique et de diplomatic pontificales (Xllle-XVIIe siècle). Paris: École des Chartes, 2007; dist. Geneva: Librairie Droz. Pp. 575.€55.00, paper. Reviewed by Barbara Bombi INA BAGHDIANTZ MCCABE. Orientalism in Early Modern France: Eurasian Trade, Exoticism, and the Ancien Régime. Oxford and New York, NY: Berg, 2008. Pp. vi, 409. $119.95 (US). Reviewed by Lynn Hunt JOHN A. LYNN. Women, Armies, and Warfare in Early Modern Europe. New York, NY: Cambridge University Press, 2008. Pp. xii, 239. $24.99 (u s), paper. Reviewed by Peter H. Wilson ULBE BOSMA and REMCO RABEN. Being ‘Dutch’ in the Indies: A History of Creolisation and Empire, 1500–1920, trans. Wendie Shaffer. Athens, OH: Ohio University Research in International Studies, 2008. Pp. xx, 439. $28.00 (US), paper. Reviewed by Heather Sutherland DAVID ELTIS and DAVID RICHARDSON, eds. Extending the Frontiers: Essays on the Mew Transatlantic Slave Trade Database. New Haven, CT and London: Yale University Press, 2008. Pp. xiii,377. $90.00 (US).Reviewed by Stephen D. Behrendt LOTHAR HÖBELT. Ferdinand III: Friedenskaiser wider Willen. Graz: Ares Verlag, 2008. Pp. 488. €29.90. Reviewed by Howard Louthan STEVE CLARK and PAUL SMETHURST, eds. Asian Crossings: Travel Writing on China, Japan, and Southeast Asia. Hong Kong: Hong Kong University Press, 2008; dist. Seattle, WA: University of Washington Press. Pp. xi, 276. $37.50 (US), paper. Reviewed by Eric Tagliacozzo TOBY BARNARD. Improving Ireland? Projectors, Prophets, and Profiteers, 1641–1786. Dublin and Portland, OR: Four Courts Press, 2008. Pp. 192. $75.00 (US).Reviewed by Padraig Lenihan LEONARD BLUSSE. Visible Cities: Canton, Nagasaki, and Batavia and the Coming of the Americans. Cambridge, MA and London: Harvard University Press, 2008. Pp. xi, 133. $25.95 (US). Reviewed by Peter D. Reeves DAVID SORKIN. The Religious Enlightenment: Protestants, Jews, and Catholics from London to Vienna. Princeton, NJ and Oxford: Princeton University Press, 2008. Pp. xv, 339. $35.00 (US). Reviewed by Thomas Munck HERVÉ HASQUIN. Joseph II: Catholique anticlérical et réformateur impatient, 1741–1790. Brussels: Éditions Racine, 2007. Pp. 328. €29.95, paper.Reviewed by Matthew Z. Mayer ANDREW LEES and LYNN HOLLEN LEES. Cities and the Making of Modern Europe, 1750–1914. New York, NY: Cambridge University Press, 2007. Pp. xii, 300. $29.95 (US), paper. Reviewed by Richard Dennis MAURICE J. BRIC. Ireland, Philadelphia, and the Re-Invention of America, 1760– 1800. Dublin and Portland, OR: Four Courts Press, 2008. Pp. xix, 363. $65.00 (US); JOHN CHILDS. The Williamite Wars in Ireland, 1688–91. London and New York, NY: Hambledon Continuum, 2007. Pp. xxii, 440. $49.95 (US).Reviewed by Thomas Bartlett MATT SCHUMANN and KARL SCHWEIZER. The Seven Years War: A Transatlantic History.London and New York, NY: Routledge, 2008. Pp. x, 300. $140.00 (US). Reviewed by Stephen Conway WALTER L. HIXSON. The Myth of American Diplomacy: National Identity and US Foreign Policy. New Haven, CT and London: Yale University Press, 2008. Pp. xi, 377. $35.00 (US). Reviewed by Mark Atwood Lawrence PATRICIA H. MARKS. Deconstructing Legitimacy: Viceroys, Merchants, and the Military in Late Colonial Peru. University Park, PA: Pennsylvania State University Press, 2007. Pp. x, 403. $65.00 (US). Reviewed by Natalia Sobrevilla Perea MARIANNE P. STOPP, ed. The Mew Labrador Papers of Captain George Cartwright. Montreal, QC and Kingston, ON: McGill-Queen's University Press, 2008. Pp. xii, 256. $39.95 (CDN). Reviewed by James K. Hiller THIERRY LENTZ. Nouvelle histoire du Premier Empire: III: La France et l'Europe de Napoléon, 1804–1814. Paris: Editions Fayard, 2007. Pp. 835. €30.00, paper. Reviewed by Philip G. Dwyer MATTHEW P. FITZPATRICK. Liberal Imperialism in Germany: Expansionism and Nationalism, 1848–1884. New York, NY and Oxford: Berghahn Books, 2008. Pp. 237. $99.95 (US). Reviewed by Jonathan Sperber CHRISTIAN HOYER. Salisbury und Deutschland: Aufienpolitisches Denken und britische Deutschlandpolitik zwischen 1856 und 1880. Husum: Matthiesen Verlag, 2008. Pp. 507. €69.00. Reviewed by Ann Potttnger Saab ANDREW SMITH. British Businessmen and Canadian Confederation: Constitution Making in an Era of Anglo-Globalization. Montreal, QC and Kingston, ON: McGill-Queen's University Press, 2008. Pp. viii, 229. $80.00 (CDN). Reviewed by Douglas Mccalla DUNCAN ANDREW CAMPBELL. Unlikely Allies: Britain, America, and the Victorian Origins of a Special Relationship. London and New York, NY: Continuum, 2008. Pp. viii, 307. $34.95 (US). Reviewed by Francis M. Carroll MARILYN LAKE and HENRY REYNOLDS. Drawing the Global Colour Line: White Men's Countries and the International Challenge of Racial Equality. New York, NY: Cambridge University Press, 2008. Pp. x, 371. $94.95 (US). Reviewed by Antoinette Burton CHRISTOPHER KOBRAK. Banking on Global Markets: Deutsche Bank and the United States, 1870 to the Present. New York, NY: Cambridge University Press, 2007. Pp. xx, 484. $45.00 (US). Reviewed by William Glenn Gray CECILIA MORGAN. ‘A Happy Holiday’: English Canadians and Transatlantic Tourism, 1870–1930. Toronto, ON: University of Toronto Press, 2008. Pp. xxiii, 461. $37.95 (CDN), paper. Reviewed by Katie Pickles BILL RAWLING. La mart pour ennemi: La médecine militaire canadienne, 2nd ed., trans. Pierre R. Desrosiers. Outremont, QC: Athéna éditions, 2007; dist. Boisbriand, QC: Prologue. Pp. 373. $34.95 (CDN), paper. Reviewed by Genevieve Allard SONYA GRYPMA. Healing Henan: Canadian Nurses at the North China Mission, l888–1947. Vancouver, BC: University of British Columbia Press, 2008. Pp. xviii, 292. $32.95 (CDN), paper. Reviewed by A. Hamish Ion OLIVER STEIN. Die deutscke Heeresriistungspolitik, 1890–1914: Das Militär und der Primat der Politik. Paderborn: Verlag Ferdinand Schoningh, 2007. Pp. 444. €58.00; PETER BAUMGART, BERNHARD R. KROENER, and HEINZ STUBIG, eds. Die Preussische Armee: Zwischen Ancien Régime und Reichsgriindung. Paderborn: Verlag Ferdinand Schoningh, 2008. Pp. xiii, 283. €39.90. Reviewed by Holger H. Herwig IRWIN HALFOND. Maurice Paléologue: The Diplomat, the Writer, the Man, and the Third French Republic. Lanham, MD: University Press of America, 2007. Pp. xiii, 189. $29.95 (US), paper. Reviewed by Ronald P. Bobroff PATRICK H. HASE. The Six-Day War ofiSgg: Hong Kong in the Age of Imperialism. Hong Kong: Hong Kong University Press, 2008; dist. Seattle, WA: University of Washington Press. Pp. xii, 276. $49.50 (US).Reviewed by Priscilla Roberts JEROME AAN DE WIEL. The Irish Factor, 1899–1999: Ireland's Strategic and Diplomatic Importance for Foreign Powers. Dublin and Portland, OR: Irish Academic Press, 2008. Pp. xx, 428. $75.00 (US). Reviewed by David Harkness NICOLAS WOLZ. Das lange Warten: Kriegserfahrungen deutscher und britischer Seeojfziere, 1914 bis 1918. Paderborn: Verlag Ferdinand Schöningh, 2008. Pp. 519. €39.90. Reviewed by Jan Rüger PAUL O'SHEA. A Cross Too Heavy: Eugenio Pacelli: Politics and the Jews of Europe, 1917–1943. Kenthurst, NSW: Rosenberg Publishing, 2008; dist. Portland, OR: ISBS. Pp. 392. $35.00 (US), paper. Reviewed by Frank J. Coppa S. A. SMITH. Revolution and the People in Russia and China: A Comparative History. New York, NY: Cambridge University Press, 2008. Pp. viii, 249. $29.99 (USX paper. Reviewed by Stephen R. Mackinnon DANIELA ROSSINI. Woodrow Wilson and the American Myth in Italy: Culture, Diplomacy, and War Propaganda, trans. Antony Shugaar. Cambridge, MA and London: Harvard University Press, 2008. Pp. x, 263. $49.95 (US). Reviewed by R. J. B. Bosworth SEAN GREENWOOD. Titan at the Foreign Office: Gladwyn Jebb and the Shaping of the Modern World. Leiden and Boston MA: Martinus Nijhoff, 2008. Pp. xxx, 440. €129.00. Reviewed by John W. Young ROLF STEININGER. Austria, Germany, and the Cold War: From the Anschluss to the State Treaty, 1938–1955. New York, NY and Oxford: Berghahn Books, 2008. Pp. x, 172. $60.00 (US). Reviewed by Lothar Hobelt KURT F.JENSEN. Cautious Beginnings: Canadian Foreign Intelligence, 1939–51. Vancouver, BC: University of British Columbia Press, 2008. Pp. 230. $32.95 (CDN), paper. Reviewed by John Ferris MICHAEL KENNEDY. Guarding Neutral Ireland: The Coast Watching Service and Military Intelligence, 1939–1945. Dublin and Portland, OR: Four Courts Press, 2008. Pp. x, 358. $55.00 (US). Reviewed by Keith Jeffery RICHARD WIGG. Churchill and Spain: The Survival of the Franco Regime, 1940–1945. Brighton and Portland, OR: Sussex Academic Press, 2008. Pp. xiv, 253. $37.50 (US), paper. Reviewed by Antonio Cazorla-Sánchez STEVAN K. PAVLOWITCH. Hitler's New Disorder: The Second World War in Yugoslavia. New York, NY: Columbia University Press, 2008. Pp. xix, 333. $34.50 (US). Reviewed by Robert M. Hayden MARC J. O'REILLY. Unexceptional: America's Empire in the Persian Gulf, 1941–2007. Lanham, MD: Lexington Books, 2008. Pp. xxi, 343. $80.00 (US), cloth; $38.95 (US), paper. Reviewed by Walter L. Hixson OLIVIER WIEVIORKA. Normandy: The Landings to the Liberation of Paris, trans. M. B. DeBevoise. Cambridge, MA and London: The Belknap Press of Harvard University Press, 2008. Pp. xiv, 446. $29.95 (US). Reviewed by Terry Copp SUZANNE FALGOUT, LIN POYER, and LAURENCE M. CARUCCI. Memories of War: Micronesians in the Pacific War. Honolulu, HI: University of Hawaii Press, 2008. Pp. x, 275. $25.00 (US), paper. Reviewed by James A. Boutilier HIROSHI KIMURA. The Kurillian Knot: A History of Japanese-Russian Border Negotiations, trans. Mark Ealey. Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 2008. Pp. xxix, 260. $50.00 (US). Reviewed by Ian Nish BENNY MORRIS. 1948: A History of the First Arab-Israeli War. New Haven, CT and London: Yale University Press, 2008. Pp. xiv, 524. $32.50 (US).Reviewed by David Tal INGO TRAUSCHWEIZER. The Cold War US Army: Building Deterrence for Limited War.Lawrence, KS: University Press of Kansas, 2008. Pp. xii, 366. $39.95 (US). Reviewed by Allan R. Millett RAPHAËLLE BRANCHE and SYLVIE THÉNAULT, eds. La France en guerre, 1954–1962: Expériences métropolitaines de la guerre d'indépendance algérienne. Paris: Éditions Autrement, 2008. Pp. 501. €26.00, paper; ÉRIC SAVARÈSE. L'Algerie depassionnee: Au delà du tumulte des mémoires. Paris: Editions Syllepse, 2008. Pp. 214. €19.00, paper. Reviewed by Donald Reid KWEKU AMPIAH. The Political and Moral Imperatives of the Bandung Conference of 1955: The Reactions of the US, UK, and Japan. Folkestone: Global Oriental, 2007. Pp. x, 252. £50.00.Reviewed by Nicholas Tarling KEVIN B. WITHERSPOON. Before the Eyes of the World: Mexico and the 1968 Olympic Games. DeKalb, IL: Northern Illinois University Press, 2008. Pp. xi, 212. $35.00 (US). Reviewed by Charlotte MacDonald ALASTAIR IAIN JOHNSTON. Social States: China in International Institutions, 1980–2000. Princeton, NJ and Oxford: Princeton University Press, 2008. Pp. xxvii, 251. $24.95 (US), paper. Reviewed by Ann Kent NORMAN A. GRAEBNER, RICHARD DEAN BURNS, and JOSEPH M. SIRACUSA. Reagan, Bush, Gorbachev: Revisiting the End of the Cold War. Westport, CT: Praeger Security, 2008. Pp. viii, 180. $49.95 (US).Reviewed by Steven L. Rearden AMARDEEP ATHWAL. China-India Relations: Contemporary Dynamics. London and New York, NY: Routledge, 2008. Pp. xv, 159. $150.00 (US). Reviewed by A. S. Bhalla DIETMAR ROTHERMUND. India: The Rise of an Asian Giant. New Haven, CT and London: Yale University Press, 2008. Pp. xiii, 274. $35.00 (US).Reviewed by Anita Inder Singh KATHERINE GOODNOW, with JACK LOHMAN and PHILIP MARFLEET. Museums, the Media, and Refugees: Stories of Crisis, Control, and Compassion. New York, NY and Oxford: Berghahn Books, 2008. Pp. 206. $39.95 (US), paper. Reviewed by Malcolm Campbell ANDREW HURRELL. On Global Order: Power, Values, and the Constitution of International Society. New York, NY: Oxford University Press, 2007. Pp. vii, 354. $45.00 (US), paper. Reviewed by Akira Iriye BASSAM TIBI. Political Islam, World Politics, and Europe: Democratic Peace and Euro-Islam versus Global Jihad. London and New York, NY: Routledge, 2008. Pp. xxii, 311. $41.95 (US), paper. Reviewed by Jeremy Salt DAVID D. LAITIN. Nations, States, and Violence. New York, NY: Oxford University Press, 2007. Pp. xv, 162. $27.95 (US). Reviewed by John Breuilly

Cunliffe paints a broad canvas with precise brush-strokes. In covering an entire subcontinent over a ten-thousand-year span, the narrative could have easily been lost in a disconnected welter of local details. Yet Cunliffe integrates his material in a fluent manner. Throughout the text, he shows how long-distance trade and migration tied the various peoples and places of Europe together while giving equal play to the local and regional particularities that have always differentiated the European landmass.
In covering such a vast terrain, Cunliffe had to exclude many topics while ranging over others in a cursory manner. Yet some important issues receive short shrift. Cunliffe pays scant attention to genetic and linguistic matters, and correspondingly downplays the genetic and linguistic evidence that could help elucidate long-distance and long-term processes. And when he does address key linguistic issues, he goes astray by embracing the notion that Indo-European languages spread into Europe with the migration of neolithic farmers from Asia Minor. Most historical linguists reject the Anatolian thesis -and for good reasons. In this regard, Cunliffe dons the customary anti-linguistic blinders of archaeology. Fellow archaeologist David W. Anthony, however, has both exposed and transcended that bias in his magnificent book, The Horse, the Wheel, and Language: How Bronze-Age Riders from the Eurasian Steppes Shaped the Modern World (2007;rev. ante, xxx [2008], 809). In the process, Anthony demolishes the Anatolian hypothesis of Indo-European origins.
If the issue of Indo-European origins is rather minor, considering Cunliffe's expansive horizon, my other major criticism cuts closer to his core concerns. Throughout the book, Cunliffe implies that there was something uniquely European in the incessant movement that he outlines over the ten thousand years. 'What [ultimately] made Europe so influential was the restlessness of its people: it was almost as though they were hard-wired to be mobile ' (p. vii). However, similar processes of migration and long-distance exchange played out across most other parts of the world. During the first millennium of the Common Era, mobility was especially characteristic of sub-Saharan Africa and the Austronesian-speaking realm.
But, any book of such scope is bound to generate a number of pointed criticisms. All in all, it stands as a monument of'big-think', trans-disciplinary history. Empirically rich, rhetorically polished, and conceptually provocative, it is a most impressive work. The physical book itself, moreover, is striking, with its heavy, high-quality paper and first-rate graphics. Anyone interested in world history, European civilization, and the interface between history and archaeology would be well advised to purchase it.

Stanford University MARTIN W. LEWIS
Although there is hardly anything new or novel here that is supported by historical evidence, occasional observations do at times provide ample space for rethinking. However, revision should emerge from the historical record; its roots should be found firmly spread in empirical evidence -either in what emerges from a closer rereading of the original sources or in the discovery of new supporting evidence -again, either in the archives or through the application of inter-or multi-disciplinarity of history's neighbourly disciplines. Underwater archaeology is one such discipline, which has inspired most of Atauz's conclusions. These are generally interesting and thought provoking. To a historian, however, they are not comfortably convincing. Absence of evidence does not prove or disprove anything, except simply that. It does not establish any modicum of certitude. Absence of historical evidence -whether one seeks it among the dusty cobwebs at the archives or underwater -highlights the continued barriers to any form of acceptable assertion. The fact that Atauz and her team have failed to find any underwater archaeological remains does not mean that there aren't any; and even if, for the sake of rational argument, no such evidence exists, it doesn't allow the researcher to question anything hitherto claimed. and his Roman enemies, was complicated by the fact that, besides the political aftermath of the Italian rebellion of 89-88, Sulla also confronted Italic polities that had opposed him and supported Cinna during the subsequent civil war. The loot Sulla's soldiers were already carrying with them from Greek sources when invading Italy allowed for a less destructive campaign than one might have expected (cf. Velleius Paterculus 2.25.1). And the pattern of the final political settlement is not so different from what was done in the East. Only a very few communities were destroyed, though Norba (near Rome), a centre of anti-Sullan sentiment, was so thoroughly annihilated that the site was not reoccupied until the Middle Ages; and the same was true of Populonia in Etruria (pp. 78,. Other polities were punished severely though less drastically; thus the Etruscan cities of Arretium (modern Arezzo) and Volaterrae lost the Roman citizenship they had just acquired (pp. 78, 175-8). Individual punishments -the infamous proscriptions -were also carried out, though executions were limited mostly to the senatorial elite of Rome itself, and as his army approached Rome in 82, Sulla issued a general pledge to respect the rights and new citizenship of the Italians (Livy, Epitome of Book 86; this did not help Arretium and Volaterrae). And some Italian polities benefited from Sulla's favour: at Capua in Campania, he uprooted a large colony of Roman veterans settled by the previous government, and gave most of the land back, to enrich the temple of Diana on Mount Tifata that was a large part of Capuan life (pp. 135-6).
Sulla allegedly penned his own epitaph: 'No friend ever surpassed him in doing good, and no enemy in doing evil' (Plutarch, Sulla 38.6). Sulla's policy in Italy as in the Aegean was to punish a few terribly, but to conciliate all those he thought could be conciliated. Yet backing whatever efforts at conciliation which Sulla undertook in Italy was the brutal fact of his settling of tens of thousands of his own veterans on lands mostly confiscated from communities that had shown themselves hostile: some of this land was distributed by viritaine allotment, but there were at least nine fortified colonial foundations, from Arretium and Faesulae in the north to Pompeii in the south. That sent a message. And if Roman tradition later exaggerated the number of Sullan veterans settled on confiscated land (120,000, according to Appian Civil Wars 1.100), the real figures must still have been very large, for twenty-three legions had to be demobilized and satisfied (p. 147). The resulting situation was starkly different from that prevailing in the Aegean, where no such veteran settlements were established to watch over things.
As Santangelo shows in this interesting, readable, and highly useful book, while the Greek East and Italy were different worlds, the fundamental concern of Sulla and the men around him was similar in both regions: to ensure to Rome the loyalty of as large a section of the local elites as possible. At the same time, punishments were made clear; in the province of Asia, the new taxation system imposed by Sulla drove many cities to the verge of collapse (p. 101), and in Italy he confiscated an enormous amount of land both from hostile individuals and communities. Yet creation of the Carolingian dynasty and the important military and political successes of Charlemagne as king and emperor. Here, McKitterick makes several claims that other specialists in Carolingian history likely will find unpersuasive, including the assertion that Charlemagne did not marry a daughter of the Lombard king , and that Charlemagne's plans of conquest beyond the traditional boundaries of the Frankish kingdom did not represent any new departures in royal policy (p. 103).
The third chapter provides a fundamental re-evaluation of the course of the royal itinerary and the role of the itinerary itself in Charlemagne's government of the Carolingian empire. Through a close paleographic and diplomatic analysis of the surviving original charters from Charlemagne's reign, McKitterick is able to demonstrate that, aside from his presence on military campaigns, Charlemagne did not travel very much at all outside the Carolingian heartlands. Consequently, contrary to the current model of face-to-face government inherent in the concept of itinerant kingship, Charlemagne did not govern through personal intervention in local affairs; rather, he dispatched royal officials who acted in his name and under his instructions.
Chapter 4 then explains the crucial role that communications, and particularly written communications, played in the government of the Carolingian empire. This point is of particular importance in that it challenges the unfounded assumptions of many scholars who attempt to study the Carolingian period, and the early Middle Ages more broadly, through the prism of the Weberian model of the 'archaic' or 'patrimonial' society. Although McKitterick emphasizes that Charlemagne was personally involved in many of the major decisions carried out by his government, the implementation of Charlemagne's policies depended on a large number of royal officials who both received instructions from the king in writing, and then reported their activities, achievements, and failures to the king in writing. One may wonder, in this context, why McKitterick did not think of this system as comprising a 'bureaucracy'.
The final chapter explores in depth one of Charlemagne's major policy initiatives, namely the process of Christianization and Christian acculturation in an effort to meld the disparate populations of the empire into a unified populus Chris tianas. McKitterick sums up the major arguments in a brief conclusion appended to the end of chapter 5.
The book is equipped with an enormous scholarly apparatus that serves to demonstrate McKitterick's fluency in the voluminous source materials for Charlemagne's reign, as well as many areas of Carolingian scholarship. The inclusion of a sixty-page bibliography is a great service to both scholars and students working on the Carolingian period. Eight maps and a serviceable index round out the text.
This study will play an important role in future scholarship on Charlemagne's reign and the Carolingian period more generally. Nevertheless, there are some important lacunae that remain to be addressed. McKitterick would have been xxxi. 3: September 2009 better served, it seems to me, to have stated openly that she simply is not interested in military history, rather than attempting to diminish the importance of the area of government responsibility that absorbed the lion's share of the attention and resources of Charlemagne and his empire. In this context, McKitterick's claim that 'there is relatively little substance to any assumption of Charlemagne as a great warrior or military leader', simply is untenable (p. 378). It is likely that Charlemagne, personally, was no great warrior; neither, however, was Napoleon. Nevertheless, like Napoleon, Charlemagne was a great military leader. In addition, a study of the practice of written administration of the royal fisc, which made possible Charlemagne's expensive policies of military conquest and Christianization, remains to be written.
In sum, I recommend this important book to all scholars interested in the Carolingian period, and in the early Middle Ages more generally. It will also be of considerable use to both graduate students and advanced undergraduates. ONE OF THE most remarkable figures in the twelfth-century history of Ireland and England was John de Courcy, a leader in Henry H's garrison in Dublin who essentially struck out on his own and created his own principality in the eastern parts of Ulster. Even in a period of aggressive expansion by knights from the cultural heartlands of western Europe, John's exploits and success stand out. A minor member of a mid-level Anglo-Norman baronial family with very little land of his own, John became a leading figure in the Irish Sea region and husband to the daughter of the king of Man. Though ultimately driven from power by King John, for several decades he went from triumph to triumph, and his story has long interested historians of Britain and Ireland. A little over a decade ago, Sean Duffy shed new light on John de Courcy by showing the connections of many of his associates and followers with northern England, where the Courcy family had ties through marriage and inheritance. In the book under review, Steve Flanders seeks to shed further light on John by researching the earlier history of the Courcy family in Normandy and England. At the same time, Flanders seeks to explore the history of the family in its own right as a rising noble family during the expansionary period of the Norman aristocracy of the eleventh and twelfth centuries. About two-thirds of the book is devoted to the Courcy family. One major task Flanders sets himself is simply to reconstruct the extremely complex and difficult genealogy of the family and to try to establish John's precise place in it. Flanders also aims to use the family to illuminate some general topics in the history of the xxxi. 3: September 2009 aristocracy in eleventh-and twelfth-century England and Normandy, such as service and patronage, and to shed light on more specific areas, such as northern English politics in the reign of Stephen. As for discussion of John himself, Flanders does an especially good job of building on Duffy's discovery of John's connections with northern and north-western England. Flanders first places north-western England in the context of the whole Irish Sea area. He then shows how John's almost certain earlier familiarity with the region may have made him more willing to attempt to set up his own principality in Ulster. Particularly important is Flanders's argument that the relative weakness of the unitary kingdoms of England and Scotland in the region, and the resulting fluidity of politics there, may have shaped John's outlook and assessment of his own possibilities in northeastern Ireland. Having discussed John's background, Flanders then provides an overview of his career in Ireland, with particular emphasis on its military aspects. At the end of the book, Flanders includes some helpful genealogies and some excellent maps. Overall, he does a good job of bringing together the surviving evidence on an interesting baronial family and its most famous member.
Unfortunately, the book has several shortcomings. A major problem is simply that the evidence for the family as a whole and even for John himself is so limited. This paucity of evidence has two consequences. First, the amount of light Flanders can shed on any one subject tends to be limited. Often, instead of using the Courcy evidence to illuminate broader society, Flanders has to use information from other primary texts and, more often, from secondary works in order to help explain what little information survives about the Courcy family. For instance, several of the Courcys held the title 'dapifer', but most of what Flanders has to say about the position does not come from the Courcy family, and while he has some useful observations about dapifers, a history of an individual family is not a good springboard for analysing the role of the office. Successful micro-history illuminates the broader picture rather than needing to be illuminated by it.
Second, Flanders often has to resort to speculation to draw interesting new interpretations out of his meagre evidentiary base. Indeed, because the evidence is so difficult, Flanders often has to speculate even when it comes to basic genealogical reconstruction, including John de Courcy's place in the family. At their best, Flanders's speculations are intelligent, reasonable, and based on a broad knowledge of the period. Even then, however, any broader conclusions have to rest on more levels of supposition than I am comfortable with. For instance, Flanders claims, on the basis of no evidence that I can discern, that John de Courcy's putative father, Jordan, was administrator of the family's northern English lands for the head of the English branch of the family, who was based in southern England. Flanders then uses this to help explain the connections with northern England that Duffy uncovered. This reconstruction is possible, but an alleged administrative position of an alleged father provides a weak basis on which to draw conclusions about John de Courcy's background.

xxxi. 3: September 2009
The book is also marked by a confusing organization and excessive repetition. For instance, Flanders treats the Richard de Courcy who played an important role in northern England during Stephen's reign as a member of the Norman rather than English branch of the family, but only gives his reasons for doing so several pages after he first makes this initially surprising claim. The most serious shortcoming, however, is that the references are sporadic and the documentation inadequate. For instance, on pages 150-4, Flanders discusses John de Courcy's use of castles in Ulster, revealing both knowledge of specific castles and of more general secondary work on castles, and yet there is not a single reference. Moreover, Flanders often discusses specific documents without citation. Though I believe most or all of the documents are cited somewhere, and most or all of the secondary works appear at least in the bibliography, the paucity of references makes this a frustrating book to use. At times, indeed, it is difficult to discern the evidentiary basis of Flanders's arguments. Because of the financial exigencies facing specialist presses, there is often pressure these days to prune references to a bare minimum. Unfortunately, this book illustrates the dangers of going too far in this direction. In sum, this is a useful book, but one that is marred by some unfortunate deficiencies.
IN 1999, THE Society for the Study of the Crusades and the Latin East held a conference in Jerusalem, and those attending were occasionally confronted by (Christian) demonstrators demanding that we should apologize for the crusades. To whom and for what end this apology should be made was never made clear. They seemed a rather woolly-minded bunch, sadly in need of this bracing book by Jonathan Riley-Smith. Its central thrust is that 'the crusades were deeply embedded in popular Catholic ideas and devotional life' and supported by a 'relatively sophisticated' theological justification of the use of force (p. 79). They were not, he argues, 'serious betrayals of the central beliefs of the Christian faith', as suggested by Rowan Williams, archbishop of Canterbury (p. 4). The essence of this argument is highly familiar and barely controversial to crusader historians, but will, perhaps, come as a shock to others. Denying that crusading was a significant expression of Christian feeling is a convenient way for Christians to disassociate themselves from terrible events of a past which they cannot be bothered to understand. It is so much easier to cringe and apologize than to understand the past and its complexities. And because Riley-Smith writes from a Catholic standpoint, it is worth adding that Protestant sects, while never xxxi. 3: September 2009 accepting crusading as such, were just as enthusiastic as their Catholic brethren about killing in the name of God.
Riley-Smith shows clearly how romantic colonialism ignored the rationalist rejection of crusading by the likes of Edward Gibbon and fostered a revival of crusading ideas in the nineteenth century as a means of justifying and ennobling imperialism. This equation of imperialism and crusading has come back to haunt the West because Islam, which had long forgotten all about the actual crusades, has simply taken over the nineteenth-century version as a means of proving that countries like the United States and Britain are 'crusaders', ignoring the fact that crusades were often directed against heretics and pagans as well as Muslims.
This is a combative book, but it is scholarly and never merely polemical. There is a genuine concern here to explain what crusading was about and to explain its place in Christian history, thereby doing justice to crusaders by setting them in their historical context. This, to some extent, counters the modern vision of crusaders as unmitigated butchers. Both sides did commit terrible massacres but, given the potentially charged nature of religious conflict, these were, in the context of medieval warfare, much less marked than might have been expected. Riley-Smith provides an interesting and in some ways highly entertaining expose of the sleights of hand of present-day Christian leaders and their manipulation by jihadis to whom they concede too much by their lazy failure to understand their own history.
But who is the book is aimed at? Based on the Bampton lectures of October 2007, the text is only some eighty pages, but the book is burdened with twentyone pages of notes and an impressive twelve-page bibliography. Many students will find it a convenient summary of many of Riley-Smith's ideas already expressed in his What Were the Crusades? (3rd ed. 2002), while the section on the nineteenth-century revival of crusading is, apart from anything else, an excellent historiographical study. But the book is clearly written with a perception that crusading has become part of the language of a great world-wide struggle. Riley-Smith alludes to Samuel P. Huntingdon's Clash of Civilizations and the Remaking of the World Order (1997), though he gives it no place in his bibliography.
In a sense, therefore, the book paddles at the edges of a very stormy sea. In this context, it might have been worth noting that in the long religious confrontation between Islam and Europe which extended from AD 711 to the eighteenth century, the crusades were a brief and exceptional period of about 150 years when the West took the offensive. By the later thirteenth century, crusades were mainly defensive, and normal service had been resumed in the Mediterranean basin -that is, aggression by Muslim powers culminating in the Ottoman assault on Europe that came to a halt only at the very end of the seventeenth century. It is surely proper to set this in the balance against the Western imperialism of the nineteenth century.
But for all the limitations of the book, Riley-Smith is the first crusader historian to venture into the contemporary debate on Islam and the West. This brings a valuable perspective to the debate. Riley-Smith points out that the jihadis are as much concerned to expel the impure from the dar al-hlam (pp. 70, 76) as to fight against the West, and this has strong parallels with the crusading period. Our modern jihadis are rather like Nur ad-Din and Saladin, who headed an alien ruling clique, primarily Turkish, rallying their subjects and victims to support them by appealing to jihad against the Frankish settlers and the Shi'ia, supporters of dissident Islam. It is not Western invasion, let alone the crusades, that has disturbed modern Islam, but the peaceful penetration of global capitalism that has sparked ancient rivalries and hatreds about the direction of the dar al-hlam. For the competing ayatollahs, the West is a useful foil because they think he (and it almost always is a he) who shouts loudest against the West stands the best chance of outbidding the others. The end is the unification of all of Islam under a single banner, a dream pursued in peaceful ways by some and in cynical ones by others. Any observer of the contemporary scene will have noted Iran's friendship with Russia, a country that has killed more Muslims than any other power in recent years. But of course Iran is Shi'ite, and cares little for the deaths of Russian Sunnis. In the hatred stirred up by such people, it is easy to forget the millions of Muslims who daily have peaceful dealings with the West, or have chosen to live there. They are, of course, the people most at risk from the waves of hatred generated by dangerous propaganda and horrors like the Bombay massacres of November 2008. Neither their lot nor the good of the rest is served by a foolish attempt to pretend that the past can be shrugged off with a fawning apology. This is an excellent book, as far as it goes, but perhaps it tantalizes by teetering somewhere in the borderlands between scholarly study and political controversy. How FAR IS it possible to unravel the interior religious, cultural, or personal forces that drove the crusades? This has become a particular concern for the growing number of especially British historians in the last thirty years who have sought to explain crusading in ideological rather than material terms. The gap between the perspective of the sources, literary and archival, and the experience of those whose actions are being described or charted becomes a central methodological and interpretive issue. It provides the ubiquitous theme of Norman Housley's latest excursion into the mentalities of those who took the cross between 1095 and 1291. Some of the assumptions familiar from Housley's previous works are prominent, yet presented here in a far more nuanced and mature analysis of what this, in Housley's view, essentially spiritual activity might actually have been like, in all its conceptual contradictions, practical inconsistencies, and individual difficulty.

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Although 'this is a book about religion' (p. 23), and much is unavoidably seen through a clerical lens, 'it was the laity that gave [the crusade] life ' (p. 4). Thus Housley is eager to uncover direct testimony of lay activity and thought, as shown, for example, by his rich and extensive use of Jean de Joinville. The basic tenets of what has recently been described as the 'idealist' school of crusader historians remain, such as the insistence on the primacy of religious motivation and the centrality of the idea of armed pilgrimage, which is rather casually and possibly inaccurately equated with penitential war. However, the treatment of these familiar tropes is greatly enhanced by skilful use of the analytical techniques derived from scholars of medieval religion more generally.
This sense of context is one of the best features of the book, as is the dense weave of primary evidence deployed deftly and directly. The investigation is roughly shaped by the process of going on crusade, from summons, taking the cross, embarkation, journeying, confrontation with the Near East and its inhabitants, victory and defeat, and return and memory. After a condensed opening narrative, the description of crusade experience is pursued in the form of a mosaic, small bright individual but associated tesserae of different aspects and issues of the crusading experience assembled to form a picture of the whole. This can appear disjointed, random, and is rather hard to follow in places. Only those who know something already about the crusades will get full benefit from the mass of detail on display.
Of particular value is the repeated exposure of what was ideologically and pragmatically flawed about the enterprise. The overall impression is of an ambition that made no sense except on a narrow plane of personal redemption in exchange for acute physical or psychological discomfort. This darker insight provides a useful contribution to the debates on crusading, one that advances in subtlety far beyond the somewhat strident and gung-ho positivism of earlier 'idealist' presentations.
Of course, there are other ways of regarding the crusades in detail and in general. There will be very different interpretations of much of the precise evidence presented. The pursuit of authenticity occasionally strains credulity. In what sense does the Gesta Francorum reflect 'reality' (p. 184)? How convincing is the religious model as an explanation of crusaders' behaviour on campaign? Does the First Crusade loom too large? The treatment of holy war is disappointingly insubstantial. The use of narrative to confirm interpretation can at times impose a certain circularity of proof. Aesthetically, some may find the decision to adopt demotic abbreviations ('it's' etc.) unnecessary or grating, especially as they sit discordantly in an otherwise soberly clear style. Nonetheless, Housley provides many interesting, thoughtful, and stimulating discussions about an important, resonant, and still much debated subject.  (1973); papal diplomacy in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, especially during the reign of Henry IV, which was the topic of Barbiche's dissertation at the Ecole de Chartres; and the institutional history of the French monarchy during the early modern period, which resulted in the publication of a number of essays in collaboration with Segolene de Dainville-Barbiche between 1999 and 2000.
In the book under review, the essays are chronologically arranged in two sections, concerning the medieval and early modern periods, respectively. Within each section, we can identify the main research topics as the personnel of the apostolic chancery, its documents, and the proctors acting at the apostolic chancery during the high and late Middle Ages; and papal diplomacy in France, especially during the reign of Henry IV.
As Barbiche states in the introduction, diplomatic and diplomacy are indeed the main topics of his research. Yet these words share a common etymology, coming from the Greek word diploma, which stands for the official document as well as the institution that issues the document and the state official appointed to deliver it, the diplomat (p. 9).
The introductory essays concerning the personnel of the apostolic chancery and the representatives of the French monarchy at the papal curia in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries have unique value. Indeed, they provide useful prosopographies and emphasize the rising French influence over the late medieval papacy. Similarly, the section concerning the diplomatic of papal documents in the late Middle Ages highlights how the technical and formulaic elements of papal documents help to enforce and support political and institutional ideas. The last essay of the medieval section, concerning diplomacy, diplomatic, and theology in the arenga of the legatine mandates between the thirteenth and seventeenth centuries, introduces the second section of the book.
The first part of the section dedicated to the early modern period indeed deals with the international role of the papacy in Europe during the Reformation, as leader of the Catholic Church and against the Turkish threat. In particular, Barbiche is concerned with the importance of papal diplomacy between the peace of Vervins (1598) and the treaty of Westphalia (1648), and the role played by papal legates a latere and nuncios, highlighting their duties, activity, and delegated powers. Similarly, in 'Les Legats a latere en France et leurs facultes aux XVIe et xxxi. 3: September 2009 XVIIe siecles', Barbiche and Dainville-Barbiche provide an inclusive and important prosopography of the legates a latere active in France between 1501 and 1668, while a unique insight into legatine mission is supplied in the case of Cardinal Flavio Orsini, legate a latere to France between 1572 and 1573, whose mission is recorded in his registers, preserved at the Archives nationales. These registers include forty-two privileges concerning ecclesiastical benefices, marriage dispensations and absolutions, and political issues, and show how the activity of the legate was more concerned with political and diplomatic matters than religious ones. The prosopographical approach is further developed in a second essay on the papal nuncios in France between 1514 and 1700, which also highlights the role of the nuncios' personal connections.
The last part of the book deals with case studies concerning the pontificate of Clement VIII (1592)(1593)(1594)(1595)(1596)(1597)(1598)(1599)(1600)(1601)(1602)(1603)(1604)(1605)  The study of diplomatic and diplomacy allows Barbiche to draw a broad picture of the international and political connections of the papacy in the medieval and early modern periods, especially with regard to France. Barbiche highlights how the exercise of papal power was strengthened by the missions of legates a latere and nuncios, good political connections, and administrative practice, resulting in the establishment of a bureaucratic apparatus within the Church.

1715-
Once you go inside and look more closely, however, the defects of workmanship are impossible to overlook. Typographical and grammatical errors, misspellings of names of authors (given one way in the text and another in the footnote), mangling of French usage, and howling non sequiturs make the reader wonder if the press bothered to hire a copy editor or if McCabe ever read over the first draft. A couple of examples cannot begin to convey the level of disarray to be found: Centre de recherche sur la literature des voyages for Centre de recherche sur la litterature des voyages (one does expect a book about France to show some command of French), or 'a statue of the Virgin ... was destroyed in 1784, after the French Revolution' (p. 43). Consider, finally, this progression of sentences, all too typical: 'The rulers of Ferrara were innovators and exceptional in their support of the study of plants. Late in the sixteenth century a succession of Habsburg emperors in Prague and Vienna invited the best naturalists of Europe. In France Henri IV's very early support of Olivier de Serres and the garden at Montpellier and its naturalists was therefore exceptional for a monarch and only had an equivalent in Spain' (my emphasis, p. 119). The text reads like a series of notes collected for the eventual writing of a book.
This carelessness is all the more lamentable because the impetus behind the project is such a good one. Although McCabe begins by claiming to offer a prequel to Edward Said's influential book Orientalism (1978), she herself recognizes that her view is profoundly different; her Orientalism is a dialogue, not a Western monologue, and it reflects more about France's weakness as an imperial power in the early modern era than about its strengths. The knowledge the French, whether Huguenot merchants or Jesuit missionaries, gathered about the Middle East and Asia had more impact on science and culture within France than it did on French policies in those places.
Similarly, McCabe uses evidence about the consumption of Oriental goods and fashions to 'help dissipate the concept of a monolithic and state-centered teleological orientalist discourse that falls ubiquitously under the umbrella of imperialism' (p. 185). The French could not circumvent the Arab, Armenian, and Turkish merchants who exported coffee from Yemen, so with Dutch help, in the form of a coffee plant brought to Paris, they took grains to Martinique and established their own plantation production there in the 1720s. The process was different but the outcome much the same in the case of Chinese silk and porcelain and various

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Asian textiles such as the siamoises de Rouen (brightly coloured cloth of linen and cotton). The name of the latter said it all: brought to France as gifts from the king of Siam in 1686, the cloth before long became a mainstay of the Rouen textile industry. What is more French than drinking coffee in a cafe or owning a piece of chinoiserie?
One important paradox in this exchange remains unexplored. Knowledge seems to have flowed mainly in one direction, from east to west; the dialogue seems to have had its major impact on France, not on France's interlocutors. The French, like other Europeans, had everything to gain and nothing much to offer, except gold and silver, in interactions with the Orient. Confronted with their inadequacies, they promptly set about studying the goods and practices they encountered, including religions, a subject largely neglected here after the opening chapters. When the tide turned more definitively in their favour at the end of the eighteenth century, they had the knowledge (or at least the means of gaining it) needed to back up their military dominance. Had the peoples of the Middle East and Asia foolishly ignored the barbarians to the west, or do we simply know too little yet about their reactions? MILITARY AND GENDER history have been equally guilty of neglecting the role of women in war, especially prior to twentieth-century conflicts. John A. Lynn's book brings the two together in the first full-length study of women in early modern European warfare. He may not have all the answers, but he places the subject firmly on the research agenda, refining the terms of debate, identifying sources, and setting questions that will undoubtedly shape how it will be studied in the future. The book, rightly in my opinion, concentrates on the more numerous and 'ordinary' camp women rather than exceptional cases like cross-dressing female soldiers. The latter do still feature along with other more unusual characters, primarily in the final chapter that provides the first systematic treatment by a military historian of women's role in combat in early modern Europe. The main focus is on women's contribution to sustaining armies on campaign. This lifts the book out of the older 'war and society' model and allows Lynn to put women back into operational history, a field of resurgent interest among military historians keen to redress the neglect of the 'sharp' end of war in historiography since the 1970s.

University of California at Los Angeles
Lynn argues that women played a vital role in the expansion of armies in the two centuries after 1450 because they enabled the larger numbers of soldiers to maintain themselves in the absence of effective formal logistical support. Female xxxi. 3: September 2009 'camp followers' organized and sustained the 'campaign community', Lynn's own concept, and its 'economy of makeshifts', a term borrowed from economic historians like Steven King andAlannah Tomkins [The Poor in England, 1JOO-1800: An Economy of Makeshifts, 2003). This was a pillage or 'plunder economy' in which women played the pivotal role as scavengers and pedlars and undertook other tasks extending well beyond contemporary gender-defined roles. The presence of numerous women on campaign also served to make military life more attractive, or at least tolerable, for the young men joining as mercenaries.
Violence is seen as a defining characteristic of the campaign community that is presented as inherently hostile to the rest of society. While facilitating the expansion of armies, the campaign community, however, reduced operational efficiency and ultimately became a brake on further growth. Armies could only expand after 1650 when the state developed an alternative infrastructure to support its troops directly, allowing it to replace female non-combatants with more front-line troops. Lynn draws on Beate Engelen's work (Soldatenfrauen in Preussen. Eine Strukturanalyse der Garnisonsgesellschaft im spaten lj. und 18. Jahrhundert, 2005) to argue that the itinerant campaign community was replaced by a static 'garrison community' subject to tighter supervision that largely removed women from their earlier participation in military operations.
Lynn's real contribution is to put women back into 'big' historical questions like war, military institutions, and state formation. There is a welcome willingness to embrace insight from other disciplines, as well as a frank admission that much of his argument may be demolished by future research. The emphasis on concerns for military efficiency as promoting change indeed reflects the writings of many early modern officers, but perhaps unduly downplays the moral drive of religious and social reformers following the Reformation that permeated all public regulation by early modern authorities. Lynn's linkage of the campaign community and plunder economy to military growth reinforces his earlier critique of the technological determinism inherent in much of the Military Revolution literature (for example, his 'The trace italienne and the Growth of Armies ', Journal of Military History, lv [1991], 297-330).
However, I am less convinced by the underlining paradigm of a shift between mercenary 'contract armies' and 'state commission armies' after 1650 that tends to minimize the role of state involvement in the earlier stage. Perhaps it would be better to discuss this not as the absence or incapacity of the state in military affairs between 1450 and 1650, but rather the involvement of different kinds of political authority than the more recognizable, absolutist state of the later seventeenth century. Questions such as these underline the value of Lynn's book and his willingness to float hypotheses when so many other historians simply play safe and stick to narrower subject boundaries.  1500-1920(Amsterdam, 2003, is packed with biographical detail and new insights into the social history of colonial Indonesia. If at first the Dutch East India Company (VOC) was content to use its Batavia-based fleets to manage a chain of trading posts from Nagasaki to Mocca in Yemen, the 1800s saw an uncertain expansion of Dutch rule within the more limited borders of the archipelago itself.

University of Hull
Multi-ethnic towns, centres of administration and commerce, were the nodes in this evolving web. Their dominant 'European' populations were small, mostly (roughly 80 per cent) Indies-born, primarily of mixed ethnic background, and culturally assimilated to Creole norms. Strategies, both official and personal, developed -as always -within a context shaped by local circumstances, as well as by such wider forces as an increasingly interventionist state and expanding economic horizons. A focus on family networks enables the authors to explore the diverse experiences of these variegated communities within the colonial polity. The history of'being "Dutch" in the Indies' begins with the VOC's triumphant seventeenth-century expansion and eighteenth-century consolidation. But 1780 proved a turning-point, as European politics (the Fourth Anglo-Dutch War) and Asian economics (British advances in India and China) initiated four decades of Dutch decline. The following short nineteenth century was the Indies' most 'localized' period, the least involved in transnational exchange (if we ignore contacts with China). Despite government attempts to professionalize the civil service and the rise of export-oriented agricultural enterprises, established patterns and local dynasties survived within new frameworks.
Nonetheless, from the mid-i8oos political and social tensions grew. Competition for employment, always fierce, was exacerbated by the emphasis on qualifications that could only be acquired in the Netherlands, and hence were restricted to the European-born, or the very wealthy. Asian-born Creoles, both white and mixed-race mestizo, feared disenfranchisement, and demanded more schools and a free press. They had some success, and from the 1870s newspapers and embryonic emancipation movements debated the qualities and rights of the locally born. Some propagated pride in the mestizo, the 'Sinjos', while others fed anxieties about miscegenation and moral decline. By the twentieth century, racism had become overt, and the distinction between 'Indo-European' (mixed race) and 'Indische' (locally born and culturally assimilated to Creole norms) had sharpened to the point where, by 1919, one association (National Indies Party) was essentially allied with the emerging Indonesian nationalist movement, while another (Indo-European Association) threw its weight behind colonial policy.

6l2
The International History Review Perhaps the most interesting, if implicit, theme in Bosma and Raben's book is the complex relationship between class and ethnic identification. In contrast to British India, with its basic legal distinction between Europeans and Eurasians, in the Dutch colonies any child legally acknowledged by his European father was accorded the same status. The highest echelons of Indies politics may have been dominated by the Netherlands-born, but government was still mainly staffed by local personnel. There was no formal barrier preventing men of mixed race from reaching the top, but it was a struggle. Social status was defined by work in the European sphere, which depended on access to social networks and, above all, on education in the Netherlands. Although sufficient financial and social capital could trump ethnicity, it was increasingly difficult for the locally born to enter that virtuous circle whereby an existing control of resources generated further accumulation.
Commenting on one conflict in the 1890s, Bosma and Raben note 'how deeply class differences were experienced as a struggle between the Totoks [new-comers] and the Indos' (pp. 306-7). Elsewhere, they observe that both class and gender were central to eighteenth-century conceptions of'the mestizo ' (pp. 62-5), and that the wealthy mixed-race planter dynasties of Java's Principalities may have been creole, but never mestizo (p. 114). Bosma and Raben do not try to disentangle categories of practice (Indies rhetoric and 'experience') from analysis (class and ethnicity), commenting merely that 'reading the word "race" instead of "class" fails to account for local variations and subtle social ties' (p. 218).
It would be unfair to end this review without emphasizing the richness of social texture revealed by the detailed biographies and family histories that form the bulk of each chapter. These are reinforced by well-chosen illustrations, and a fluent text excellently translated by Wendie Shaffer. This is a book that will give pleasure to many readers, while correcting popular stereotypes and entrenched scholarly assumptions. It can be highly recommended to anyone interested in colonial social history, or wider questions of cultural exchange. Reflecting the substantial changes in the database since 1999, the book has a non-British focus, unusual in slave-trade collections published in English. As Eltis and Richardson summarize in chapter 1, the CD-ROM version of the database TSTDi (Transatlantic Slave Trade Database 1) included gaps in early slave trades from Spanish, Dutch, and French ports, pre-1662 London, and, most important, during many years of Portuguese and Brazilian slaving. Since 1999, archival research in Angola, Belgium, Brazil, Cuba, Denmark, England, the Netherlands, and Spain discovered 8,232 'new' slaving voyages (60 per cent Portuguese/ Brazilian); confirmed that 657 ventures to Africa, assumed in 1999 to be outfitted for slaves, actually traded for produce (gold, ivory, dyewood, spices); and located additional voyage details for 19,729 ships already in TSTDi (pp. 6-g). Eltis and Richardson explain precisely how TSTD2 advances TSTDi, concluding that TSTD2 provides shipping-based evidence that 9,654,319 enslaved Africans were embarked, 77 per cent of the estimated 12.5 million individuals forced into the transatlantic slave trade (p. 43).
Parts 1 and 2 of the book present seven chapters that summarize data from TSTD2 on the Spanish, Brazilian, Cuban, French, Dutch, and Prussian slave trades and an eighth on the origin of Upper Guinea Coast slaves, 1824-41. Antonio de Almeida Mendes relates that officials shipped black slaves from Seville to Hispaniola as early as 1501, and in 1524 a consortium of Italian merchants transported three hundred African slaves from Sao Tome to Santo Domingo, one of the earliest transatlantic slaving ventures (pp. 63-4). Chapters on Pernambuco and Bahia contain new slave import estimates spanning the late sixteenth to mid-nineteenth centuries. Pernambuco, as Daniel Barros Domingues da Silva and Eltis note, is the least documented 'major branch of the traffic', and hence new benchmark data on its slave trades are valuable. In refining data on the African origins of slaves in Cuba, Oscar Grandio Moraguez questions why Yoruba culture played a disproportionately large role in the island (p. 195); a stronger chapter would have answered this question posed by scholars a century ago. Though it is interesting to read about minor slaving regions, Andrea Weindl's chapter on the Prussian slave trade is a study of only fifty-six slaving voyages (most from the 1690s), a fourmonth total of Liverpool's trade during the late 1790s. Philip Misevich examines xxxi. 3: September 2009 1,603 African names, peoples shipped from Upper Guinea (broadly the Sierra Leone region), recorded by British anti-slavery officials in Havana. He is able to group Sierra Leone 'recaptives' by 'ethnolinguistic units', their points of enslavement in the interior, and the West African ports to which they were marched. He includes a useful map, the only one to accompany a chapter, and his study demonstrates 'the potential that culturally significant evidence such as African names can have for shedding further light on the African end of the slave trade' (p. 172).
Like Misevich's essay, the three final interpretative chapters could have been written using results from TSTDi. Though Manolo Florentine's chapter on Rio de Janeiro, 1790-1830, presents updated data, his discussion on slave families needs research on plantation inventories contained in three Brazilian archives. Roquinaldo Ferreira's piece on the Angola slave trade, 1830-60, explains why internal (African) and external (suppression attempts) factors shifted embarkation sites; the new TSTD2 data do not alter patterns discerned earlier. Eltis and Paul Lachance's chapter, 'The Demographic Decline of Caribbean Slave Populations', contains new data on the inter-American slave trade compiled by doctoral students Greg O'Malley (Johns Hopkins) and Grandio Moraguez (York, Canada). Indeed, the two cited TSTD2 early in their essay but then slipped into citing TSTDi (pp. 350-1).
Specialists on the transatlantic slave trade, those who study African ethnicities, and Brazilian historians will find this book of most value. Ferdinand's four hundredth birthday, not one but two biographies have recently appeared in German.
The book under consideration here is the Austrian contribution. Its author, Lothar Hobelt, is best known for his work on the political and military history of nineteenth-and twentieth-century Austria. Hobelt brings these same sensitivities to his subject and presents what he describes as an 'old-fashioned' biography of the neglected emperor and his tumultuous world. The great strength of this text is Hobelt's ability to situate Ferdinand's life and the fortunes of the family within the broader political and military context of the seventeenth century. This is very much a 'big picture' biography as we follow Ferdinand and his family and their connections with Albrecht von Wallenstein, Cardinal Richelieu, Axel Oxenstierna, the count of Olivares, and other luminaries of the period.
Hobelt's study may best be divided into three major sections. The first examines Ferdinand's youth and his military activity culminating with his command of the imperial army after the assassination of Wallenstein. His greatest success here may have ironically led to one of his greatest problems. After Ferdinand's decisive victory at Nordlingen in late summer 1634, Richelieu became so alarmed with the Spanish presence along the Rhine that he decided to engage France's old enemy more directly by opening a new front in the Low Countries. The middle section follows Ferdinand as he assumes the imperial mantle after his father's death in 1637. As a war leader, his energies were now spent less on an Austro-Spanish alliance against the Bourbons and more in defending the Erblande from the still dangerous raids of the Swedish army. Hobelt includes a particularly insightful examination of Ferdinand's ambivalence to the peace settlement as the 'Friedenskaiser wider Willen'. The final section may in some ways be the most valuable, as it examines those forgotten years after the peace of Westphalia and before the accession of Leopold I. Here we see the growth of Italian influence at the Viennese court, the difficulties of securing the imperial succession, frustrated attempts to solve the Hungarian problem, and renewed hostilities against Sweden waged through a proxy war in Poland.
Hobelt's biography attempts to strike that difficult balance by addressing both a scholarly and a popular audience. In large part he succeeds. Though the endnotes are somewhat abbreviated, he does make use of sources from more than twenty libraries and archives in Austria, Germany, the Czech Republic, and Italy. The text itself is engaging and nicely paced, appropriate for a general readership with little background in the intricacies of the Thirty Years War and the subsequent peace negotiations. Unfortunately, I was unable to compare Hobelt's study with the shorter biography by the German historian Mark Hengerer which at the time of writing is unavailable in North America. Though Hobelt's Ferdinand III is unabashedly a political and military history, I was somewhat disappointed that he did not more carefully integrate religion into his discussion of Ferdinand and the evolution of his political views in a manner similar to Robert Bireley's considxxxi. 3: September 2009 6i6 The International History Review eration of his father, Ferdinand II. There are also significant problems with the notes and bibliography, mistakes with French, Hungarian, and Swedish sources. References to Czech material are the most problematic: misspelled and lacking proper diacriticals. Though admittedly this is not a major issue, it is still a shame that a fine study of the forgotten emperor has been marred by shoddy editorial work. THIS IS AN interesting and (ultimately) a timely volume; it is also a somewhat uneven one. The editors, Steve Clark and Paul Smethurst, have brought together a collection of fifteen essays (this includes their short introduction to the book) that examines travel-writing in Asia from the seventeenth to the twentieth century. The subtitle places these writings as discussing China, Japan, and South-East Asia, but there is significantly more on East than South-East Asia, though the latter region is represented here and there. There are self-standing, individual contributions on single themes such as ruins, and the travels of one intrepid couple to the marches of Central Asia in the 1930s. There are also groupings of similarly themed essays on topics such as travel in China, travel in Japan, and the writings of women travellers, such as the great British voyager Isabella Bird, who traversed much of Asia in the 1880s. This slightly haphazard structure makes for confusion, though it also makes for interesting reading as some of the pieces come together nicely in fortuitous agglomerations.

University of Florida
Just what the editors are trying to say about travel in Asia writ large is not completely apparent, however. They have indeed managed to get a good subset of writing together on the topic, and the individual essays are often well argued and accomplished, but it is not clear what they have in common that warrants them being placed together between two covers. I enjoyed the book, but after I had finished it I was convinced that this was because the level of scholarship was generally high, not because the essays necessarily made up a coherent whole.
The essays range widely. In the last essay, 'After the Bubble: Post-Imperial Tokyo', Clark discusses Sophia Coppola's 2003 film, Lost in Translation. This title can serve for the traveller's disorientation in early twenty-first-century Tokyo, or even for the essay that opens the book on Japanese early modern travel literature by Robert Wittkamp. How to connect the dots between these two epochs in Japan? The 'strangeness' of travel is what forges this connection, and the notion is xxxi. 3: September 2009 commented upon throughout the book, whether the travellers in question are Victorian free spirits, modern Western tourists, or even Asians travelling in Asia but outside of their own everyday domains. The strangeness of being on the road, seeing new things, and meeting new people (but only half-meeting them, another common theme in the book, of 'dis-connection' in encounters) is a notion that, well ... travels. We have all experienced this disjunctive.
The authors seem to say that this is predictable, and that we should almost expect such feelings any time that we or the people we write about (refracted in fact through their writings) hit the road. But it seems a slim payoff, as this isn't a major revelation for anyone who travels regularly. More interesting to me was the sense that occasionally people do travel outside of the well-worn norms, such as the fascinating piece by Jacinto Fombona on the first Colombian to travel to China, Nicolas Tanco Armero. Tanco Armero is representative of a number of other travellers in the book, whose provenances, experiences, and travels actually seemed to fall outside the grooves of the expected, and who therefore stay in one's memory.
There are essays by Joe Sample and Ting Man Tsao on fairly straightforward narratives of travel in China in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. These are informative, and give one a sense of what it must have been like to be a European journeying through that huge country. The essays by Shizen Ozawa, Eddie Tay, and Julie Kuehn do much the same for the aforementioned Bird and a few other women travellers, grounding well-known oeuvres of travel writing with new interpretations, details, and insights that are useful and informative. Yukari Yoshihara, David Taylor, and Mark Meli extend the essays to Japan, which has proportionately the lion's share of the book, despite the fact that it is geographically smaller than both China and South-East Asia. This isn't a scintillating book, full of laser insights and argumentative heat and light. But it is a solid book, and the collective sense of disorientation that the authors and their subjects impart is useful. I'd recommend reading this while on a bus or a train, preferably en route to some unknown destination, and all the better if it's in Asia. The International History Review The first is William Petty who mapped a million acres to be confiscated from Irish Catholics in the 1650s. He was amply rewarded. His County Kerry estates, the core of his new holdings, did not prove to be a showcase of improvement: iron-working and tree-felling were commonplace and ecologically wasteful activities, though the fisheries proved to be a nice little earner. In old age, Petty advocated wholesale population movement between Ireland and Britain, echoing a second improver, Richard Lawrence, who had urged in the 1650s that natives be banished west of the Shannon. Despite odd glimmers of hope that improvement would transform Ireland into 'West England' (p. 80), Lawrence remained a disappointed crank. Yet he was more. His diagnosis that the cause of Irish economic weakness was unsound coinage and landlord absenteeism puts him near the start of a tradition of patriotism among Protestants in Ireland.
The most mainstream improver was a third man, Robert French, from Monivea, County Galway. His father, Patrick French (d. 1744), had pragmatically converted from Catholicism to the Church of Ireland and this hard-headedness was reflected in his estate management: 'there is no keeping insolvent tenants' (p. 146). We learn that Patrick French doubled the number of sheep in the decade before his death, though this switch to sheep walks would, one imagines, have cast him as a villain depopulating his estate rather than an improver. Robert was a less problematic improver who created employment by building a durable protoindustrial model village with, by 1776, ninety-six linen-weaving looms and 370 spinning wheels. Most men of convert parentage like, say, Edmund Burke, retained a lingering sympathy for their erstwhile co-religionists but Robert French displayed a 'fervent' (p. 155) commitment to the Church of Ireland and a preference for Protestant tenants.
In 'The Earls of Egmont and Lohort Castle', Barnard illustrates his remark that a romantic taste for the primitive and picturesque 'sometimes complemented' (p. 120) the cult of improvement. In that sense, one might agree to count John Perceval, the largely absentee second earl of Egmont, as the fourth improver. Perceval aspired to embellish an edifice of 'solemn majesty ' (p. 131)  In truth, John Perceval's aspirations have only a tangential connection with improvement and the same can be said of 'Improving Ireland's Past'. This, the book's middle chapter, is a fine study of how members of the emerging Protestant xxxi. 3: September 2009 ascendancy tried to situate their community in relation to a past in Ireland, and even to an Irish and Gaelic past. An updated and profusely illustrated edition of James Ware's Works and an English translation of Geoffrey Keating's Foras Feasa (both works were in different forms a century-old at this time) represent enduring achievements by these members of the Protestant community.
Barnard hints why he put a question mark after Improving Ireland? and leaves readers to draw their own conclusions. He suggests, for instance, that the rhetoric of improvement was special pleading by the conqueror and colonizer. Agricultural improvement in Ireland often meant 'increasing profits and Protestants' (p. 137) as one County Cork landowner bluntly put it: it was a truism that the Protestant ethic and the spirit of improving capitalism were inseparable.
These essays are as elegantly written as one has come to expect from Barnard and are enlivened by subtly humorous asides. But, however insightful each essay, collectively they do not amount to a coherent treatment of the theme. in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, as seen from vantage points in the three major port cities of the region: Batavia, which was the centre from which the Dutch East India Company (VOC) sought to manage its trading activities in the region; Canton, which was the major centre for Chinese-European trade throughout the period and beyond; and Nagasaki, the only port in which the Tokugawan state would allow European and Chinese traders a presence in Japan. These are the 'visible cities' of the tide. The first chapter, 'Three Windows of Opportunity', establishes the maritime sphere, the time frame, and the historical context within which the book operates. Much of that discussion deals with changes in policies towards maritime trade of Ming and Qing China and Tokugawa Japan, the major state formations of the region; the unstoppable 'outflow' of Chinese maritime traders into Nanyang; and the growth of the European presence in the expanding trading situation by the eighteenth century.

University of Limerick
While a primary purpose of the lectures was to provide a historical account of the changing trading situation, the emphasis on the three 'visible cities' means that there is also a strong interest in the nature and operation of the specific urban form

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-the port city -in which the historical events take place and the ways in which those port cities affected historical outcomes. Born in the historic Dutch port of Rotterdam, Blusse outlines this interest at the outset when he makes the point that the nature of the port city is especially instructive: 'Through the windows of Canton, Nagasaki, and Batavia we can witness the advent of modernity' (p. 8).
Against this background, chapters 2 and 3 take up two major themes. 'Managing Trade across Cultures' deals with how the three 'visible' port cities operated and the effect which their specific development had on European-Asian trading and political relations. Canton was a major port with more than a thousand years of development and this showed clearly in the skilful handling of the foreign traders and the expertise of the Chinese merchants and entrepreneurs. Nagasaki, by contrast, was a sixteenth-century 'invention' designed to give maximum state control over trade while keeping foreign traders away from Japanese society. Batavia, in even starker contrast, was a 'company town' that took on the character of a national capital with a widespread network of influence, which the VOC exploited to the full.
Blusse shows tellingly how Batavia -which was as much a Chinese as a Dutch city -experienced ethnic conflict and serious environmental problems that led to its relocation. Nagasaki worked well enough for the purposes for which it was created and did also bring some knowledge of global developments to sections of Japanese society, which otherwise was closed to the outside world. Canton, in contrast, flourished as trade (stimulated particularly by tea) grew enormously and the city's capability expanded. Change came also from the growing global nature of trade and the effect of the industrial and political revolutions of the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries. Blusse highlights in this period the problems of Batavia and the VOC that are in important ways partly responsible for the 'coming of the Americans', as the traders of an independent United States moved increasingly into Asiatic trade.
In chapter 3, 'Bridging the Divide', Blusse draws attention to the important sources for understanding the nature of the cultural and social interaction within the port cities. He is able to point to some important Japanese materials and even some limited Chinese sources; but he draws upon mainly European sources. He does this by engaging with the 'voices' of individuals who came to have a deep interest in the understanding of East and South-East Asia. Particularly important here are Dutch materials that 'have left us vivid eyewitness accounts of the final days of the Dutch East India Company and the chaotic times in which they lived' (P-77)-Handsomely produced and illustrated and with an excellent bibliography, the book provides an important starting point for future research on the areas skilfully raised in this valuable work. FOR SOME TIME, historians have recognized that open confrontation between Enlightenment and religious belief, which became a hallmark of the philosopkes in France, was barely visible in most other parts of eighteenth-century Europe. Although matters of religious faith formed part of Enlightened debate in the German lands, and in parts of Italy, the most provocative French texts were usually ignored there, or rejected as scandalous. In England and the United Provinces, most publications avoided religious controversy altogether. As David Sorkin emphasizes in the epilogue to this book, until recently historians of the Enlightenment, too, have assumed that there was little intellectual connection between religious belief and Enlightenment, so much so that even the main title of this book may appear surprising. The introduction quickly dispels any doubts, and explains with great clarity why it is time to challenge the secular master narrative of the Enlightenment. Taking his cue from Jonathan Israel's thesis that the Enlightenment consisted of two groups -a large majority of moderates and a small group of potentially far more subversive radicals -Sorkin argues that we should add a third group of thinkers and writers who consciously explored the positive links between belief and reason, and sought thereby both to renew religious beliefs and to improve the moral and rational life of mankind. From their perspective, the Enlightenment provided an ideal opportunity for reform (of the church itself, the educational system, concepts of toleration, and much else). For practical reasons, Sorkin chooses to omit Italy and Spain, Scotland, or the Americas, but he ranges across both Protestant and Catholic parts of Europe, and perhaps most innovatively, links the Jewish Enlightenment firmly into the cultural context of the German Enlightenment.
Sorkin underpins his argument by selecting six key figures, each representing different perspectives, yet sharing some common principles that seem to transcend their individual contexts. They were all born between 1698 and 1742, but most are now regarded as fairly minor figures: William Warburton, bishop of Gloucester and prolific scholar-author; Jacob Vernet, a leading theologian and moderate reformer in Geneva; Siegmund Jacob Baumgarten, professor of theology at Halle and a student of Christian Wolff's rationalism; and Joseph Valentine Eybel, sometime professor and key promoter of church reform in the government of Joseph II. But to these Sorkin adds two far more familiar figures. A central chapter in the book is, appropriately, devoted to the towering philosopher and Jewish scholar in Berlin, Moses Mendelssohn, whose pivotal role in the German Enlightenment has long been recognized, but who is now placed in a fresh and fascinating context as the only one of Sorkin's main figures who did not hold a public office of some kind. When he turns to France in his final chapter, Sorkin uses Antoine-Adrien

xxxi. 3: September 2009
Lamourette, a Lazarist priest, member of the legislative assembly, and juror bishop of Lyons in 1793, to help explain why the French Enlightenment was so uniquely hostile to the church, and why the revolution in 1789 made compromise impossible.
Tackling each of these writers in separate chapters might have undermined the coherence of the overall argument, but Sorkin is able to provide brief introductory comments to keep the comparative framework clear, before analysing their specific (and often controversial) careers as reformers and thinkers. In the process, he explores the repercussions not only of what John Locke had described as the reasonableness of Christianity, but also of the deep-rooted tensions in every community between traditionalist religious conservatism and the search for more internalized faith through a common natural religion. Sorkin demonstrates how even limited discussion of toleration was generic, not driven solely by political necessity from within Protestant Europe; and he helps to clarify the position of those who sought compromise, explaining that what they stood for did not amount to either a compromised faith or a blunted reason.
In some respects, this book remains true to the traditional techniques of the historian of ideas: readers will find little to help understand the wider diffusion or reception outside the elite. But this is justifiable, given that each of the six were themselves aware that the power of the state was essential to achieving their aims. Sorkin has mapped out a distinctive way of relocating religion within the moderate Enlightenment, with such clarity that no one can afford to ignore his argument; and perhaps no less important, he has identified a common interest shared across distinct religious and cultural environments by those who understood what Enlightenment could mean. Herve Hasquin has written the first modern general history of Joseph II in French. It focuses on the emperor's ambitious domestic reform programme in the Habsburg Monarchy. Hasquin provides a standard interpretation of the Josephinian era -a period of ambitious reforms during which the enlightened emperor sought to modernize and secularize his diverse territories (including modern-day Austria, Belgium, Luxembourg, Hungary, and parts of Germany, Italy, Croatia, Slovenia, the Czech and Slovak republics, Poland, Ukraine, and Romania). As many historians have previously argued, Hasquin sees Joseph's reforms as laudable but impossible to realize. His untimely death in 1790 from tuberculosis left to his brother Leopold the task of restoring order in the rebellious Austrian Netherlands (Belgium, Luxembourg) and Hungary; indeed, Leopold reversed some of Joseph's reforms, especially his taxation edict of 1789, which would have greatly reduced the fiscal dues of peasants.

University of Glasgow
Hasquin sheds little new light on either the domestic or foreign policy of Joseph II. The most useful section of the book deals with economic policy. With the exception of P. G. M. Dickson's Finance andGovernment under Maria Theresia, 1740-80 (1987), this aspect of eighteenth-century Habsburg history has not been treated properly. Hasquin correctly argues that, despite repeated efforts, Habsburg rulers failed to achieve an integrated market in their disparate holdings, which had a detrimental effect on the projection of Austrian power. The Austrian Netherlands, the monarchy's most developed possession, was virtually cut off from the core lands (Austria, Bohemia). Joseph was able to rely on Belgian financiers such as the Proli family, but never succeeded in convincing his subjects there to contribute to his centralizing policies. Indeed, the resistance of the Estates to his reforms was a key element in the Belgian revolt of 1789-90.
The most disappointing aspect of Hasquin's book is the use of sources. There is a general absence of note references in the text. One also wonders why he relies on Saul K. Padover's The Revolutionary Emperor: Joseph II of Austria (2nd ed., 1967), a book that has been convincingly discredited by Beales (In the Shadow of Maria Theresa, p. 10). However, the most glaring shortcoming is the paucity of Belgian sources. There are but a few reprinted, original sources from the Royal Archives in Brussels cited in the book. 1 Nor does he use a single archival document on the question of the Belgian revolt, which Hasquin covers in slightly more than three pages. Since many historians have seen this crisis as potentially threatening to the continued survival of the monarchy, one would have expected a Belgian scholar who has easy access to archival sources to have engaged in a more thorough treatment of the controversy. 2 In spite of these gaps, Hasquin has done a service to French scholars by providing an accurate, general account of the life and policies of Joseph II. The work is accessible to a wider readership and includes a helpful series of plates of key figures and places, maps and tables in support of the text, and a solid bibliography for readers interested in deepening their understanding of the life of this impatient reformer. nonsense City going about its everyday business, it is a perfect match for Andrew Lees and Lynn Hollen Lees's text: a subtly nuanced view from above where diverse activities and technologies are subject to scrutiny, where case studies of specific cities are invoked to substantiate, or demonstrate the diversity within, different themes such as industrialization, improvement, and protest, but individuals are mostly subservient to categories of class, gender, or ethnicity. There is due acknowledgement of the symbolism of urban landscapes, but leisure and culture are deferred until the serious business of survival has been dealt with. Logsdail's painting hints at the anxieties and ambiguities of'modern', 'imperial' cities, just as the authors discuss both the fears that urbanization bred secularization and the mixed implications of urban growth for colonialism. Imperial capitals like London and colonial cities overseas were both centres for the administration of empire and foci for the undermining of imperial authority. New transportation and communications technologies and an expanding press could spread resistance and subversion as easily as civic virtues.

GarUton
Cities and the Making of Modern Europe, 1750-1^14 is not simply a history of modern cities or restricted to cities in Europe; it is addressed to all kinds of historians, in highlighting the roles played by cities in modern history: the density Security: Part II Leopold II, the Prussian Threat, and the Peace of Sistova, 1790-1', International History Review, xxvi [2004], 473-514). The war against the Ottoman Turks had turned in Austria's favour, while Joseph's Russian ally was prepared to come to Austria's defence if Prussia invaded Bohemia. In the end, both the Belgian revolt and Hungarian insurrection were ended quickly in 1790.

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and sheer numbers of people concentrated together in large cities (and the book focuses on cities of more than 100,000 inhabitants) in exacerbating and making visible problems of poverty, poor sanitation, inadequate housing, and moral disorder that provoked national as well as municipal responses; the ethnic and cultural diversity of cities that grew first by rural-urban migration and immigration and then by natural increase stimulated by high fertility rates among the newly arrived, and that prompted both racist and proto-multicultural responses. The evolving internal geographical differentiation of cities, especially the development of residential segregation, shaped as well as reflected attitudes towards 'others'. Cities were crucibles where new ideas were forged, where artists were inspired to develop new commentaries on modernization, where nationalist and anti-nationalist movements developed in response to the anxieties of new urban experiences, and where there was a captive market for new commodities, technologies, and ideas.
The book concentrates on Britain, France, and Germany and prioritizes social history, perceptions of cities, and ideas formed in cities, reflecting the Lees's wellknown expertise. But it also extends to colonial urbanism in the Americas, India, and the East Indies, and to more 'peripheral' parts of Europe. Occasionally, as in sections on social welfare and religion, it is directly comparative of policies and reactions in major British, French, or German cities. More often, however, the argument flows from one city to another, an example drawn from a seminal study of, say, Hamburg stimulating the interpretation of the next example, maybe from Glasgow or Marseille.
The book is also structured around a temporal divide at 1850. From 1750 to 1850, the authors identify an 'era of disruption'; from 1850 to 1914 an 'era of reconstruction' and relative stability. The earlier period is already too late to refer to 'city states'; but in the later period cities were less independent of powerful national governments, but also more accommodating of citizen participation in increasingly democratic municipal government. The terms 'disruption' and 'reconstruction' apply as much to the context within which cities were growing as to their internal characteristics: 'disruption' as revolution, displacement from the countryside, economic uncertainty, but also the promiscuous and unregulated nature of urban space; 'reconstruction' in the sense of rebuilding national identity in the wake of political revolutions and unification. The internal disruption of mob riots gave way to more disciplined forms of protest, yet still erupting in violence, as in the Paris Commune or in Italian cities in the 1890s. Physically, 'reconstruction' perhaps gives undue prominence to what was going on in city centres -Haussmannization, or the laying out of Vienna's Ringstrasse, for example, and slum clearance. Mostly, the later period was one of expansion: new construction, rather than physical reconstruction.
Grand theory is sidelined. Jiirgen Habermas and Michel Foucault merit brief mentions for their ideas on 'the public sphere' and 'governance'; David Harvey makes an entry, not for his spatialization of Karl Marx but for a more benign reference to functional and geographical specialization in nineteenth-century Paris. More attention is paid to contemporary critics -Robert Vaughan, A. F. Weber and his less well-known French contemporary, Paul Meuriot -and to late twentieth-century commentators: Lewis Mumford's 'jeremiad' is contrasted with Peter Hall's 'celebratory' treatment of cities (p. 6). This is not a 'disruptive' book, but it is an invaluable aid to the teaching of both European and urban history, portraying cities as the links between metropoles and colonies, as drivers of reform, and as simultaneously stimulating and retarding national economies. MAURICE J. BRIC'S BOOK has been long in the making and it has expanded in length and content since I first read sections of it some ten years ago. This should not be taken as a criticism: the book has benefited from a long gestation and it is a lot sharper, fuller, and altogether more polished now than in previous recensions. Bric enters into the contested territory of the evolution of the new American nation in the crucial decades of the French and Indian war, the war for independence, and the establishment of a stable framework of government. He begins in 1760 when the American colonists and the British army and navy were enjoying huge triumphs over the French in North America, and he concludes with the election of Thomas Jefferson as president of a sovereign, federal, and independent United States: a startling transformation within a single generation.

University College London
Bric focuses on the role of Irish immigrants in this process -especially political exiles -and he investigates their activities and the reaction to them in Philadelphia. The general topic of the 'contribution' of Irish immigrants to the new republic has already attracted the attention of scholars such as Michael Durey, Transatlantic Radicals and the Early American Republic (1997) and David A. Wilson, United Irishmen, United States: Immigrant Radicals in the Early Republic (1998). And, indeed, the period covered by Bric's book has drawn the scholarly attention of some of the finest historians both within and outside the United States -Bernard Bailyn, Edmund Morgan, Gordon Wood, J. R. Pole -and has generated some heated debates about the evolution of the new US polity. How much of it derived from deep-rooted colonial/British notions and concepts, and how much from the more recent experience of war and the impact of sustained migration, xxxi. 3: September 2009 particularly Irish and German, in the later decades of the eighteenth century? It is Bric's achievement to have entered confidently into these contested areas and to have offered evidence and conclusions that will certainly attract the attention of other scholars. He has undertaken massive research in primary manuscript collections, among pamphlets, and among an impressive array of newspapers, and he shows conclusively the vital role that Irish immigrants played in the extension and definition of the United States. As noted, his focus is Philadelphia (this precision distinguishes his work from others in the field), perhaps the most 'Irish' of all the north American urban centres, and hence one for which there is much evidence of Irish involvement in the debates and in arguments that took place in the clubs and societies and in the political groupings and parties that made life so vibrant in that city in the late eighteenth century.
There is much else in this book besides a consideration of the political contests in the early years of the republic and the Irish role in them. Brie has surveyed the available evidence for Irish immigration in the late eighteenth century and he has concluded that this was rather greater than allowed for, a finding that will interest historians of immigration to the New World. In addition, he has examined the role of Irish merchants in Philadelphia and carefully charted their networks back to the 'old country', and he has important insights to offer on the publishing careers of Mathew Carey and William DeVane, and indeed into the history of the book in the new nation. Lastly, Bric's expertise in eighteenth-century Irish history, a field in which he has published extensively, has enabled him to enter fully into the world of these radical emigrants 111 ways denied to others who have had to consider them only on US soil, without an understanding of the radical baggage they brought with them from Ireland. The book will be essential reading for historians of the late eighteenth-century revolutionary movement in the Atlantic world.
An earlier revolutionary movement is the concern of John Childs who provides a detailed narrative account of the Williamite Wars in Ireland, 1688-91. As with Bric's work, the topic cannot claim to have been neglected, but Childs's book is likely to supersede all previous accounts because it is based on what appears to be an exhaustive range of sources, because it covers the entire war and not just the key battles of the Boyne (1690) and Aughrim (1691), and because Childs is the foremost expert on the military history of the restoration period, having published a number of books on the British army in the reigns of Charles II and James II, with the book under review best seen as a companion work to his earlier The British Army and the Nine Years ' War, i6gg-iyoy (1991). In addition, it is well written.
Childs's book is especially noteworthy in that naval operations during this war are examined thoroughly, and he is good on the battlefield tactics of the contestants. Off the battlefield, Childs is adept at unravelling the command rivalries that undermined the Jacobite war effort, with the French commander, Charles Chalmond, marquis de St Ruth, and the two leading Irish generals, Patrick Sarsfield and the duke of Tyrconnell, all at daggers drawn with each other. The Williamite commanders -William III himself, the duke of Schomberg, and Godert de Ginkel, first earl of Athlone -also had their differences but these were not as destructive as those on the Jacobite side. The organization and recruitment of the various armies is well described. As Childs shows, the Williamite wars in Ireland were not just the simple Catholic-Protestant contests that they have been frequently portrayed as. He points out that there were many Catholics among William's Huguenot regiments, and his remark that 'niceties of nationality, religion, and motivation were not the concern of the recruiting party' is capable of a wider application. In his preface, Childs writes modestly that 'an Englishman coming late in his career to the history of Ireland is constantly aware of his ignorance': but his concern is misplaced, for he easily sails over the hurdles. A reference to 'Northern Ireland' (p. 130) -over two hundred years avant la lettrecan be overlooked.  1754-1766 (2000), perhaps the most weighty contribution. Anderson's book had many virtues -not least its beautifully constructed prose -but its weakness, perhaps inevitably, is the downplaying of the importance of the war in other theatres. He does not ignore events in Germany and elsewhere, but they all appear as decidedly subservient to his central story of the course of the war in North America and its contentious aftermath. One of the most pleasing features of this new book by Matt Schumann and Karl Schweizer is that it avoids an over-concentration on North America, and gives the war in Germany its due. The first chapter surveys the origins of the complex set of hostilities that we now call the Seven Years War (1756-63). It explains clearly the shifting military alignments that immediately preceded the outbreak of fighting in Europe, producing the so-called Diplomatic Revolution of 1756, when the alliance systems of the preceding War of the Austrian Succession (1740-8) were turned on their heads. The next chapter takes us through the military operations between 1756 and 1761, with a brief summary of the military events of 1762 added as a form of postscript. We are then introduced to the financial and logistical aspects of the war in a chapter that conveys something of the ways in which the German and North American dimensions of the conflict were intimately connected. The relationship xxxi. 3: September 2009 between the war and domestic politics in all of the principal belligerents is analysed most effectively in the following chapter. Diplomacy is the subject of the final two chapters, the first focusing on the years of fighting from 1755 to 1760, and the second on the attempts to bring the wide-ranging conflict to a close between 1760 and the signing of the final peace treaties in 1763.

University of Aberdeen
The willingness of Schumann and Schweizer to provide full coverage to the European dimensions of the war will come as no surprise to those familiar with their earlier work. Schumann wrote an interesting Ph.D. dissertation on grand strategy in the Seven Years War, which devoted a good deal of space to the German aspects, while Schweizer has a well-deserved reputation as an expert on Anglo-Prussian relations of the period. If their approach is open to criticism, it would be for its 'transatlantic' emphasis -undoubtedly an improvement on a narrowly North American perspective, but still rather less than a full recognition that the war was a truly global contest. The conflict in India is mentioned, and there are some passing references to the British capture of Manila, but the Asian dimension is treated as essentially peripheral to the main story.
Despite its wider scope, Schumann and Schweizer's book is much shorter than Anderson's monumental Crucible of War, which stretched to more than 850 pages. It cannot be said, however, that the book under review here is more accessible than Anderson's hefty volume. Schumann and Schweizer are not able to match Anderson's sparkling prose style (though, to be fair, few can). Even so, there are some important reasons for persisting, even when the writing seems inelegant, or even a little leaden. Schumann and Schweizer draw on a much wider range of primary sources than Anderson; indeed, their assiduity in exploring material in German, Austrian, Russian, Swedish, and Danish archives, as well as in the more familiar British, North American, and French repositories, is much to be admired, and unlikely to be bettered. Nor is this just a matter of providing a new set of footnotes to an old story; Schumann and Schweizer produce fresh insights and some fascinating -and unexpected -comparisons between the North American and German theatres. Above all, they demonstrate that William Pitt's famous boast in 1762 that North America had been won in Germany could easily be inverted. For the British government, attacking the French in North America and the West Indies (and for that matter in India) was seen as a way of reducing the enemy's capacity to sustain their own war effort, and that of their allies, in Europe. The survival of Prussia depended to a considerable extent on British exertions beyond Germany, and not just on Frederick the Great's military genius, plus good fortune, as many traditional accounts suggest. In short, readers will learn a lot from this well-researched and thoughtful book. To WHAT EXTENT did the presidency of George W. Bush break with traditional patterns of US behaviour in international affairs? At first, following the promulgation of the Bush doctrine, the administration's critics contended there had been a momentous rupture with the past. Bush, they charged, had brazenly abandoned the United States' tradition of multilateralism and ushered in a new era of shootfirst-and-ask-questions-later bellicosity. Meanwhile, conservative defenders of the Bush administration such as John Lewis Gaddis and Robert Kagan argued for continuity, insisting that Bush had acted well within the respectable mainstream of US history.

University College London
Lately, a fascinating reversal has taken place. Bush's defenders are increasingly apt to credit him with reorienting national security policy to confront new threats, while his detractors tend to view the 'war against terror' as just another chapter in a long and regrettable story of belligerent and counter-productive behaviour on the world stage. Authors such as Andrew J. Bacevich and Susan Faludi have recently put the latter case in superb books. But no one has made the argument with as much command of history and theoretical rigour as Walter L. Hixson, an unusual diplomatic historian equally at home with mundane archival sources as the grand insights of Michel Foucault and Antonio Gramsci.
Hixson argues that US foreign policy since the nation's founding has sprung from -and simultaneously reinforced -a pernicious, culturally constructed belief among Americans that their nation stands apart from the rest of humanity and possesses a God-given duty to spread its principles abroad. Most dangerously, Hixson contends, this mythic national identity has persistently driven the United States to initiate warfare and otherwise to wreak havoc on foreign societies. But Hixson argues that Americans' self-deception has carried monumental costs domestically as well. Convinced of their worthiness as a model for the rest of the world, Americans have been blind to the profound injustices at home and deaf to the appeals of individuals who sought to puncture the myth. 'Throughout modern US history,' Hixson asserts, 'war and militarization proved integral in the cultural process of marginalizing farmers, feminists, minorities, reformers, and peace progressives ' (p. 198).
Much of this will sound familiar to readers acquainted with the work of Richard Dnnnon, Michael H. Hunt, Howard Zinn, and any number of more junior scholars who have brought the methods of cultural history to bear on diplomatic problems in recent years. Indeed, this book is considerably less revolutionary and iconoclastic than Hixson claims. His major achievement, in fact, lies not so much in the freshness of his argumentation as in his ability to synthesize the work of other like-minded scholars and to sustain his argument across US history from

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Cotton Mather to Paul Wolfowitz. Hixson's analysis is especially enlightening when he examines episodes that might not, at first glance, easily fit within a narrative of unbroken US aggression -the surge of anti-imperial sentiment during the US-Philippine War, for example, or the United States' retreat from global activism between the world wars. The book shows convincingly that even those Americans who expressed discomfort with bold action overseas rarely questioned the basic components of American identity and so did nothing to achieve a lasting reorientation of foreign policy.
Hixson is less convincing in his somewhat monotonous insistence that virtually all US diplomatic activity can be explained simply as an expression of the 'myth of America identity'. Most notably, he leaves open the question of precisely how economic motives played into US decision-making. This shortcoming reflects a deeper problem: Hixson's lack of clarity about the relationship between culture and ideology, on the one hand, and material ambition on the other. To be sure, the book draws on Gramsci to suggest that elites benefited from cultural attitudes that justified and reinforced unequal distributions of wealth. But to what extent did elites deliberately exploit ideology to serve their material ends? Did economic interests ever diverge from the imperatives of American identity? Can the two sets of motives be disentangled? Such questions merit more attention.
Still, Hixson deserves immense credit for crafting a timely and provocative book that commands the careful attention of scholars and general readers alike. Whether it finds a broad readership is open to question, as many readers may lack patience with Hixson's cultural-studies jargon. But those who persevere will be rewarded with his eloquent concluding appeal for a fundamental rethinking of how the United States interacts with the rest of the world. the Philippines, as well as with foreign traders. Not often does an author engage, as seriously, with the process of independence from a fresh perspective that, unencumbered by trendy studies on the 'subaltern', focuses on the elites who were at the centre of the political and economic life of the colony. By carefully studying the biographies of the most important merchants, Marks is able to provide new explanations as to why loyalty to the crown endured while all other important cities in the New World had to contend either with the creation of governing juntas, or with the deposition of viceroys.

University of Texas at Austin
The first chapter details who the merchants were and establishes crucial differences between the Spanish-born, dedicated mainly to the Atlantic trade, and those native to the Americas who dominated the Pacific trade. The second chapter examines the effects the Bourbon Reforms had on the Lima-born merchants. The main aim of the reforms was to displace native entrepot merchants to ensure that the profits from their trade would pass to the Spanish-born (p. 61). In spite of the best efforts of reformers, trade between Chile and Peru, that saw the exchange of sugar for wheat, remained in the hands of the Peruvians, and with economic difficulties mounting after the earthquake of 1746, the viceregal government became ever more dependent for survival on the loans provided by the merchant guild. Strategies were implemented to destroy the Limeno elite, mainly through taxation, and the guild came to be dominated by men born in Spain. By the beginning of the nineteenth century, the merchants from the capital had been displaced by those from the metropolis, not only in the direction of the guild, but also in the most profitable businesses. This resulted, however, not in more power for the colonial authorities as the reformers had hoped, but in rival factions competing for control of the guild and an aggrieved local merchant class.
The book then moves on to the strategies local merchants used to undermine and sabotage the reform. Here Marks presents her most provocative reading of late colonial history, when she asserts that 'armed rebellion and pronunciamiento are not the only indicators of significant change in political reality' (p. 108) and claims that the merchant elite feigned compliance while they did all they could to reduce reform to irrelevance. War, first with Britain and later with France, provided the merchants from Lima with further possibilities to bury reform and indeed their petitions showed that their single most significant grievance was the restriction of colonial trade.
After firmly establishing the importance of the traders, the book devotes attention to the study of the military and colonial bureaucrats, but always referring to their relationships with the merchants. The main issue Marks explores in chapter 5 is trade, in particular the implementing of direct trade with foreigners, as opposed to the 'free trade' devised in the metropolis, which had undermined the power of the merchant guild in Lima. The financial constraints on the viceroyalty in the context of war led to the opening up of trade by Viceroy Joaquin de la Pezuela, with full support from the Limeno merchants. This in turn triggered a xxxi. 3: September 2009

$33
chain of events that ultimately led to the unseating of the incumbent viceroy by a younger cadre of officials, who believed that 'direct trade with foreigners threatened Peru's existence as part of Spain' (p. 343). Marks considers this to be 'an early form of Latin American praetorianism' where civilians, in this case the metropolitan traders, persuaded the army officers to intervene. The book ends in 1821 with the deposition of the viceroy, leaving unaddressed many questions about the participation of traders in the chaotic years until the final capitulation in 1824. In spite of this, Marks presents a novel and well-argued reading of dissent among elites in Lima and sheds light on issues of international trade on the eve of independence. The business of the coast was seals, salmon, furs, and cod. In Cartwright's time, there was also a lively but declining trade with the Inuit, who, though living in the northern part of the peninsula, came south to trade whalebone and other items for European goods. It was a year-round economy, uncertain and chancy, but potentially lucrative. Though a gentleman (in the eighteenth-century sense), new to trade and to a rough environment, Cartwright seems to have taken to his new world with enthusiasm. He told 'W: 'Learn to do every thing with your own hands, that you may know when others do their work well. It is a false idea that a Gentleman disgraces himself by making use of his Limbs, for those things are only disgraceful which are contrary to the Laws of God irMan' (p. 201).

University of Kent
Thus, the Additions provides instructions on such matters as how to catch seals in nets, how to set traps for fur-bearing animals, how to build houses and tilts, how to grow turnips, and the best methods of caching and curing salmon. An inveterate hunter, Cartwright discusses various ways of taking caribou, wolves, beavers, birds, and bears. He addresses the management of a sealing post, and gives advice on dealings with the Inuit ('Esquimaux Indians'). The ethnographic information is valuable, and Cartwright demonstrates a remarkably humane attitude towards them, urging fair treatment and honesty at a time when there were frequent outbreaks of violence between Inuit and Europeans. 'They are a most amiable, ingenious, tractable, and well-disposed race of mortals' (p. 178).
In places, the text becomes dominated by lists of merchandise, detailed instructions for setting nets, preparing salmon for export, and so on, but no source other than the famous Journal provides such detailed information about everyday life on the coast in this period. As such, the book is a valuable contribution to Labrador historiography, providing historians, ethnographers, and students of material culture with a rich resource. Stopp's introductory chapters are well researched and provide the necessary context for the documents.
Cartwright's Journal is a good read. In this book, one has to read imaginatively between the lines to sense that tough, original character who, having gone bankrupt, returned to live in his native Nottinghamshire, where he was known as 'Old Labrador'.  (1810-14). The projected fourth volume will deal with the Hundred Days and the Congress of Vienna. If we add to that the history of the Grand Consulat, which appeared as a kind of prologue in 1999, then he will have written thousands of pages in the longest, and most complete, recent history of the consulate and empire. The third volume is different in its approach. It is not a narrative and is entirely devoted to a structural analysis of France and Europe during the period from 1804 to 1814, that is, the empire, its institutions, its economy, society, finances, law and order, foreign policy, and so on. In short, just about every aspect of life and society under the empire is treated in this work. Some overlap with the other volumes is inevitable, but this is nevertheless an impressive synthesis and is probably the most interesting of the three volumes to date because of the amount of detail it covers. One can imagine historians of the period having this on their shelves as a reference work, but it is also the work which is least likely to appeal to the popular market, precisely because of the amount of detail and its rather staid style and approach to the subject matter. If you need a summary of Napoleon's reforms of the educational system (pp. 370-90), or if you need to know about Napoleonic finances (pp. 390-415, the military budget always far exceeded the rest), or the imperial regime's economic policy (pp. 416-42), then this is a good starting point.
As in the other volumes, Lentz insists, somewhat naively, that his averred approach is neither systematically critical, which he associates with bias (parti pris), nor is it an attempt to rehabilitate the First Empire. The suggestion is that he is somewhere in between, a neo-Rankian telling it like it is. It is meant to be a 'reflection on the guiding principles, the functioning, the means, and the goals of the Napoleonic regime' (p. 7). As a synthesis though, and there is a remarkable bibliography of thirty pages, it is a little dispiriting to see that one of the preeminent French scholars in the field has a tendency to rely almost entirely on works in French. True, a few works in English are cited, but other language works and the important recent studies on the empire in English are missing. Much of this work falls, therefore, into well-worn grooves. Nothing wrong with that in a work of synthesis. The three chapters (25 to 27) on politics, for example, offer up some interesting insights into the political life of the empire by focusing on oppositional elements within the consulate and the empire, neither of which were as monolithic or as unanimous as has sometimes been made out.
It is not until the last section of the book, however, that there is an attempt, although not very successfully, to engage with the historical debates. Lentz starts off with some interesting questions -the international environment in which the empire developed, Napoleon's goals and the means he used to achieve them, and why he failed -but the analysis falls well short of the mark. Despite asserting that

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The International History Review he is going to place what played out in Europe in a much larger geo-political, historical, and economic context, what we end up getting is not that. In a section on ideology as a cause of the European conflicts, we get a disappointing summary of the 'Anglo-Saxon Historiography', reduced to Desmond Seward (who in the field takes his work seriously?), Henry Kissinger, and Paul Schroeder, who is given short shrift and whose whole thesis is dismissed because in one line of his book he draws a comparison between Napoleon and Adolf Hitler. The summary of the French historiography, mind you, is almost as bad. It mentions a few recent works but there is virtually no engagement with them. If one is expecting an up-todate synthesis based on the available literature in French, English, and other languages, one is likely to be disappointed. As an overview of the complex issues being played out during the empire, it is likely to find a useful place on the scholar's shelf. IN THE CURRENT historical debate on the place of modern European empires in the politics and everyday life of the imperial powers, one could contrast the position of Bernard Porter, who portrays the British empire as a marginal element in the United Kingdom, of interest primarily to an imperial elite, with that of Catherine Hall and Antoinette Burton, who describe the empire and the racist thinking accompanying it as ubiquitous in everyday life, and an integral element of domestic politics. As these examples suggest, the debate has focused primarily on the largest of the European empires. One might wonder about its application to Germany, whose overseas acquisitions came at a late date and were never very considerable.

University of Newcastle
Matthew P. Fitzpatrick is clearly on the Hall/Burton side of the debate. He asserts that imperialist aspirations were constitutive of nineteenth-century German nationalism, and that they were central to the triumph of a bourgeois-liberal conception of the German nation over competing conservative, Catholic, or socialist versions. Fitzpatrick portrays Otto von Bismarck's decision to found a German overseas empire in 1884 as a demonstration of the hegemonic position of bourgeois liberalism in German politics. This is a daring thesis, but Fitzpatrick can only demonstrate it by defining all imperialists as bourgeois liberal, and all bourgeois liberals as imperialists.
In his discussion of imperialism and liberal nationalism during and after the revolution of 1848, Fitzpatrick interprets every mention of the creation of a German navy -a very popular nationalist cause -as an example of liberal, bourxxxi. 3: September 2009 geois aspirations to overseas empire, even the plans of Prince Adalbert of Prussia (neither bourgeois nor liberal) to build a navy based in Danzig to challenge Russian maritime superiority in the Baltic Sea (pp. 31-2). Calls for overseas empire in the Frankfurt national assembly by Prussian conservatives such as Joseph Radowitz, and Catholic conservatives such as Franz-Josef Ritter von Bu8 (a great critic of liberalism), are proof of imperialism's close connection to liberal bourgeois nationalism, while the scepticism of the assembly's main liberal leader, Heinrich von Gagern, about the possibility of a united German nation state acquiring a colonial empire, is no evidence against it (pp. 34,39-40). Fitzpatrick assiduously tracks down every mention of a potential overseas empire by liberal nationalists in the 1860s, but must admit that, for the activists of the National Association, the leading liberal-nationalist group, imperialist aspirations were a marginal issue (p.

104).
Fitzpatrick examines the growing commercial and investment activities of German merchants, particularly from central Europe's leading overseas port of Hamburg, in the southern hemisphere during the third quarter of the nineteenth century. However, Hamburg's liberal mercantile elite also had a reputation as colonial sceptics. To prove this reputation incorrect, Fitzpatrick cites an 1883 memorandum of the Hamburg chamber of commerce; the memo, though, was concerned primarily with calling on the national government to protect German commercial interests in British and French colonial possessions, with the possibility of German colonial acquisitions added on briefly at the end (pp. 88, 99).
What Fitzpatrick does demonstrate is that, throughout the period, there was a good deal of nationalist anxiety in Germany about the large-scale emigration from central Europe, regrets about the loss of the emigrants' energies for the nation, and concern for their fate overseas. There were frequent proposals in the popular press as well as in scholarly journals for the creation of German colonies in the Americas, where emigrants could settle, and a number of organizations were founded to promote this goal. The connection between emigration and the nation probably did create a background of public opinion favourable to the eventual acquisition of a colonial empire (a point first made by Mack Walker in his 1964 book, Germany and the Emigration, 1816-85, apparently not consulted by Fitzpatrick), but this concern was not exclusively liberal and bourgeois, since -as Fitzpatrick does not mention -the most successful of the emigration associations was sponsored by the Standesherren, the former high nobility of the Holy Roman Empire. Founding such a German colony would have involved a clash with the United States -a point lost on Fitzpatrick, who seems to think that the Monroe Doctrine only applied to North America (pp. 81, 91). Germany's actual colonial empire, located primarily in Africa and the South Pacific, received virtually no German emigrants -who continued to stream to the United States, all proposals to the contrary notwithstanding -and had little connection to these settlement plans.
These critical observations could be continued at some length, but the main xxxi Many Victorian statesmen published more or less extensively in newspapers and periodicals; such writing has long attracted scholarly notice. Hoyer's attempt differs in two ways. First, he applies early writing to later policy. This might raise questions of relevance, but Hoyer covers himself sensibly by saying that he is trying to establish Salisbury's mindset, not to find some mythical consistency on details.
The second problem is quality, and here Hoyer is uniquely fortunate. Salisbury's situation was unusual. This scion of one of the oldest and most prominent families in England -the Cecils -he was a second son, and his succession to the title was problematic. In 1857, he married a commoner, whereupon his father cut off his allowance; Salisbury, already a member of parliament (unpaid), turned to journalism to support himself. Unlike William Ewart Gladstone, who was known for forays such as the pamphlet on the 'Bulgarian Horrors and the Question of the East', Salisbury wrote routinely for magazines such as the Saturday Review and the Quarterly Review until 1865 when he inherited the title, and even beyond. Unlike Lord Palmerston, who regularly inspired articles in the Morning Post, Salisbury signed most of these articles. His work also contrasts with that of Disraeli, who owned and frequently wrote for the short-lived Press, but whose exact contribution has required sophisticated detective work on the part of M. G. Wiebe and his team at the Disraeli Project at Queen's University at Kingston. Finally, unlike these others, Salisbury was relatively uninterested in self-promotion xxxi. 3: September 2009 or polemic. Writing for pay did not make Salisbury a hack; it made him a professional.
So what do we learn about Salisbury's policy? Three things. First, Hoyer puts Salisbury's actions as foreign secretary into a broad context of balance-of-power diplomacy. The unification of Germany, replacing a Europe with a weak centre by a Europe with a strong centre, was not, as historians have often averred, necessarily detrimental to peace. The real danger, according to Salisbury, came from France, and later from Russia. A strong, centrally located Germany could restrain those two powers better than weak central states, and the aggrandizement of Prussia might make peace more likely rather than less.
Second, contrary to generally received opinion, Salisbury did not 'hate' Germany. Watching the process of unification through three wars naturally gave him pause, while the annexation of Alsace-Lorraine made him fear either a war of revenge or a preventive war launched by Otto von Bismarck to preclude a war of revenge. However, Bismarck steadfastly refused to use the Eastern Question to promote hostilities between Russia and England and so create an opportunity to fall on France. Salisbury gradually became convinced that Bismarck, serious in his protestations, really did want peace.
Finally, Hoyer demonstrates convincingly that 'hate' is the wrong word to apply to Salisbury's views of international powers. Disbelieving emerging racial theories, Salisbury rejected stereotypes and laid more weight on circumstance than on 'national character'. Many telling quotations (in the original) give us the flavour of this sceptical, ironical, sensible, and very funny man.
The last part of the book is the least successful. In a bow to new practices in writing international history, Hoyer looks at non-political aspects of the Anglo-German relationship. Only the last section, on the generally cordial conduct of relations, is clearly relevant: the other three produce nuggets that could have been saved for journal articles. Salisbury was concerned about Prussia's astonishingly rapid military progress, but Prussian reforms were not as significant for Britain, a naval power, as they were for the French, who had much to learn. The chapter on perceptions of emerging German commercial rivalry to Britain demonstrates that, although Salisbury could see a long-term danger, he was impressed with the potential for partnership and admitted that many of Britain's difficulties were the result of its own poor choices. The low importance given to dynastic ties, at least until the accession of Kaiser Wilhelm II, is no surprise.
What emerges throughout is the extent to which Salisbury shared and perpetuated the deep suspicion of France that had been a staple of conservative thinking from the time of the Crimean War. Hoyer makes it clear that while Lord Aberdeen and even Disraeli, looking for a 'natural ally' (to use Salisbury's phrase), tried to turn to Russia, Salisbury increasingly counted on Bismarck and Germany.  , 1688-2000 [2nd ed., 2002]), he seeks to investigate the implications of this investment in the making of Canadian confederation in the 1860s. The role of London financiers has tended to be downplayed, particularly by historians who sought to shape a nationalist narrative for Canada. Smith agrees that the new constitution was the work of colonial leaders, but stresses that financial ties to Britain were fundamental to their understanding both of public finance and of economic development. More important to his argument, British initiative was vital to the confederation process, and British support essential. And the British government, he contends, was influenced more by City of London capitalists than has been recognized. Smith's story focuses on 1862, when 'prominent men with investments in Canada' (p. 1) created the British North American Association (BNAA) to lobby for imperial support for colonial union and the construction of a railway from Halifax to Quebec. Later, when the confederation arrangements came back for parliamentary approval, British business support was no less important; Smith argues that investor hostility then 'would have been a substantial if not insurmountable obstacle' (p. 2).

University of North Carolina at Greensboro
The initiative for the BNAA came from Joseph Howe, the premier of Nova Scotia (ironically, he would later oppose confederation). He urged the idea on the prominent banker, Thomas Baring, asking him to associate also George Carr Glyn with it. (Baring was Nova Scotia's financial agent in London and he shared the financial agency for the Province of Canada with Glyn.) Both were deeply involved in the Grand Trunk Railway, whose deteriorating financial situation in 1861 gave edge and impetus to the entire movement. Other central figures were Edward Watkin, involved both in the Grand Trunk and the Hudson's Bay Company, and Joseph Nelson, the secretary of the BNAA. Early in 1862, Nelson travelled throughout the United Kingdom, persuading many chambers of commerce and councils to pass resolutions endorsing imperial guarantees for loans to finance the intercolonial railway.
Just as these pressures bore fruit in British cabinet decisions, the Canadian government was defeated in 1862, taking from office the principal political allies of the Grand Trunk. Smith's chapter on the ensuing period should be read alongside Peter Baskerville's 'Imperial Agendas and "Disloyal" Collaborators: Decolonization and the John Sandfield Macdonald Ministries, 1862-4' ( m Old Ontario: Essays

xxxi. 3: September 2009
in Honour ofj. M. S. Careless, ed. D. Keane and C. Read [1990], pp. 234-56), a sophisticated analysis of the policies of the new government, and particularly of its second finance minister, Luther Holton. Smith's account would be stronger if it also addressed the fact that Holton was himself a deeply knowledgeable railway and financial insider.
Authors are responsible for their works, of course, but realizing the potential of a promising body of research requires constructive peer review and editing. Here, something has gone wrong; a book from a leading scholarly publisher should not have so many errors. A number are substantial, including the use of O. J. Firestone's long-superseded estimates of Canadian gross national product (p. 222 n. 96) and misleading or completely incorrect assertions such as that John Gallagher and Ronald Robinson's famous article, 'The Imperialism of Free Trade' (Eco nomic History Review, 1953), argues 'that British colonial policy was dictated by the needs of manufacturers' (p. 9); that 'Baskerville extrapolates ... that Holton was a protectionist' (p. 78); that 'the basic idea' of another London-based business, the Canada Company, was to buy lands from 'the Anglican church in Upper Canada' (p. 172 n. 59); and that the Canadian political leaders '[George-Etienne] Carder and [John A.] Macdonald ... agreed that railways should be financed through government borrowing in London' (p. 82). Others reveal a worrying inattention to detail, as a few examples suggest: 'underestimate' is used where overestimate seems intended (p. 21); the author of the article cited at p. 172 n. 63 is Keith Johnson, not Peter Baskerville; the historian Harry Ferns appears as Henry Fern (p. 15); Danby Seymour, a BNAA member, is listed as both a Conservative and a Liberal MP on the same page (112); and the quotation attributed to Harold Innis on p. 223 (n. 108) is from a book written by Mary Quayle Innis.
These concerns do not diminish the value of the book's perspective. In addition to the framework of gentlemanly capitalism, its use of recent literature on constitutional political economy and institutional factors in economic development enhances a sense of seeing familiar events from a different angle. THE SUBJECT OF Anglo-American relations has been well studied. Certainly from the perspective of the United States, this is entirely understandable, inasmuch as Britain was overwhelmingly the most important foreign country, and indeed foreign culture, the United States had to confront throughout much of its existence. US diplomacy, its territorial expansion, its economic growth, its immigra-tion patterns, its intellectual and literary life, and its emergence onto the world stage, were shaped, for better or worse, by its interaction with Britain. Events of the twentieth century have given this complex relationship a particularly amicable cast. Duncan Andrew Campbell begins his study with a useful discussion of the extent to which many of the major works in Anglo-American relations reflect the solidarity of British-US affairs during the Second World War and the early cold war, and subsequently confer on the first hundred and fifty years a degree of good will and an element of destiny that is quite misleading. He sets out to correct this. The title of his book, Unlikely Allies, is not merely a play on words. Campbell shows that Britain and the United States were extremely suspicious of each other throughout much of the nineteenth century. The War of 1812 ended with many people convinced that the inconclusive results of the conflict would inevitably bring about a third Anglo-American war; indeed, the border conflicts and bad feeling in the 1830s seemed to guarantee fresh hostilities. The civil war in the United States in the 1860s created a new set of issues that had the potential to ignite a third conflagration. Campbell confronts the fact that a great many people in Britain simply did not like the United States, as indeed the many travel books written in mid-century revealed, and that within the United States suspicion and hatred of Britain was a respectable political and cultural position into the twentieth century. Rather than focusing on growing harmony between the two cultures, Campbell emphasizes the strain and bad feeling that continued throughout much of the century. Although some historians might quarrel with his description of Lord Palmerston's impartiality during the civil war or his judgements about Charles Francis Adams's fitness as US minister to Britain, Campbell's interpretation is a useful corrective view of the harmonious relations that have characterized British-US affairs since the Second World War.
While Campbell notes that there are some crises in the late nineteenth century, he identifies the 1871 treaty of Washington as a key turning point in diplomatic relations. This treaty was intended to settle the claims of damage to the US merchant fleet caused by the Confederate commerce raiders built or purchased in Britain during the civil war: the ''Alabama claims'. An arbitration tribunal created by the treaty met in Geneva in 1872 and awarded the United States $15.5 million. Campbell points out that the British were also awarded $2 million for damage claims arising out of the war and that, under the fisheries provisions of the treaty, Canada was subsequently awarded $5.5 million for rights granted to US fishermen in Canadian waters. So this was more of a compromise than a clear victory. A further point that Campbell does not mention is that the settlement of the Alabama claims not only improved relations generally, but halted pressures within the US government for the annexation of Canada. The end to the persistent annexationist tension between the United States and Canada also contributed to an improvement in British-US relations.
Furthermore, James Bryce's The American Commonwealth (1888)  IN THIS MAGISTERIAL study, Marilyn Lake and Henry Reynolds argue that far from being an expression of civilizational and/or racial confidence, 'the assertion of whiteness' articulated by proponents of Anglo-American imperial dominance at the turn of the twentieth century -an assertion that served as the rationale for territorial expansion and global aspiration on both sides of the Atlantic in the quarter of a century before and after the treaty of Versailles -was, in fact, 'born in the apprehension of imminent loss' (p. 2). Rather than taking the white supremacist claims of British and US imperialism at face value, in other words, Lake and Reynolds rigorously historicize both the unevenness of their ideological work as discourses in the global arena and the unstable geopolitical ground upon which they unfolded as part of the larger story of the hollow, deadly, and ultimately failed project of a providential Anglocentric universalism. They do so by modelling a truly unparalleled form of transnational history, one that operates from the archives of white settler colonies (North America included), only to reveal the provincialism of that vantage point, most notably by taking seriously the challenges posed by a variety of 'Asian' actors -from Chinese migrants to Japanese imperialists to Mahatma Gandhi himself. This is a once-in-a-generation book, a must-read for students of empire, international politics, critical race studies, and global history.
As W. E. B. Du Bois famously prophesied, the problem of the twentieth century would be the problem of the colour line. Lake and Reynolds remind us that the seeds of that prophecy came in the nineteenth century, through the prognostications of British-born Australian historian Charles Pearson, whose book National Life and Character: A Forecast (1893) predicted that Anglo-Saxon communities world-wide would be swamped by 'Asiaticus' and hordes of his nonwhite brethren. Pearson's work caused a sensation among transatlantic intellectuals, men like Theodore Roosevelt who agonized over the future of the world as the right and proper possession of whites -men whose followers enacted legislation, from California's 'Pacific slope' to Australasia and South Africa, intended to serve as a bulwark against the floodtide of immigrants, aliens, and other 'others'. Heretofore, these histories have largely been told as discrete national ones. What Lake and Reynolds do is to re-situate them in their transnational imperial contexts, illustrating the circulation of ideas across national boundaries, the appropriation of policies and legislative programs (like the literacy test from the Reconstruction US South to South Africa), and, above all, the shared interpretive grid of white masculinity the players operated in and through. They also rematerialize the role of less well-known agents like Lowe Kong Meng (a Penang-born, Melbourne-resident trader who fought the imposition of a £4 tax on Chinese) in the geopolitical debates about sovereignty and self-representation: debates that Lake and Reynolds show were always already local and global, no matter where they took place. As significantly, they insist on the major impact that antipodean politicians and thinkers, fresh from crafting their own white-only policies of the turn of the century, had on shoring up convictions in Britain and the United States about the urgency of anti-immigration legislation, which resulted famously on the US scene in the 1924 Johnson-Reed Act (capping immigration and specifically excluding Asians). White brotherhood extended well beyond the imperial centre, impacting diasporic Chinese and other migrants and shaping the global political economy of modernity tout court.
As compelling as this set of reorientations is, it arguably pales in comparison to another decentring manoeuvre at the heart of the book: a revision of our image of the modern imperial world as a Western affair. Lake and Reynolds go further than most historians of either British imperialism or anti-immigration movements by insisting on the critical role played by an aggressively imperializing Japan in laying claim not simply to a place at the table at Versailles in 1919, but to a kind of racial equivalence with white Europeans on the basis of its imperial success over Russia in 1904-5 -in spite and of course because of the conviction of civilizational superiority and racial supremacy internal to its own colonization projects. Two recent exceptions to the Japan exclusion impulse at work in modern imperial historiography are Eiichiro Azuma (Between Two Empires, 2005), who rewrites Issei identity into the history of global imperial/racial struggles in the western United States, and Erez Manela's The Wilsonian Moment (2007;rev. ante, xxx [2008], 867), which captures the frustrated Japanese quest for recognition in the post-First World War peace treaty process. But no historian has managed to situate the story of Japan's racialized ambition in the competing national, imperial, and international narratives of the late nineteenth and twentieth centuries the way Lake and Reynolds do, to astonishing effect in terms of how we need to begin to appreciate, and to historicize, the global dimensions of the modern world.
While the book under review remains a model of transnationalism, with the British empire at the centre, it is also an enduring example of how to represent the centrifugal energy of metropolitan imperial power while registering its very real limits and the work, discursive and concrete, of a host of players within and without. Whether Lake and Reynolds's optimism about the demise of a certain kind of global racial logic at the convergence of the birth of the United Nations Universal Declaration of Human Rights in 1948 and the death of Jan Smuts in 1950 is warranted remains an open question. Meanwhile, they have offered us a provocative and eminently usable framework for understanding the beginnings of the end of a historically specific iteration of the fateful problem of the colour line. If the first two-thirds of the book rest upon Kobrak's wide access to the Deutsche Bank archives, the story of more recent decades is built upon interviews, giving to this section a very different cast. Gone are the painstaking accounts of individual investments* as Kobrak observes, the volume of transactions had exploded and the very character of banking metamorphosed. Deutsche Bank was slow to respond: for all his transnational networking, chairman Hermann Josef Abs thought of banking as something that took place largely within national boundaries. Abs preferred to act as an intermediary between the German and US economies. The fact that finance itself was becoming deterritorialized, and massively deregulated, did not sit well with the cautious bankers in Frankfurt. Only in 1978 did Deutsche Bank establish a formal branch in New York; but it did well, bringing in 7 per cent of the bank's total business by 1989 (p. 323). Even so, Deutsche Bank did not embrace US-style globalization in earnest until 1998, when it bought Bankers Trust to form what was -briefly -the largest bank in the world in terms of assets. Bankers Trust was experienced in the kind of financial wizardry, such as derivatives, that was not fully understood in Frankfurt. Deutsche Bank had finally realized its 'American Dream'.

University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign
Readers in 2009 may wonder how Kobrak might have approached the topic differently in light of the recent financial crisis; but his study is well timed and xxxi. 3: September 2009 valuable precisely because it avoids retrospective judgement. His postscript stresses the competitive pressures that made Deutsche Bank's older lines of work less profitable, forcing constant innovation and the introduction of new financial instruments. Yet the bank never completely abandoned its cultural preference for serving as an intermediary rather than as a major investor in its own right, and (according to recent media coverage) this has helped to spare it from the worst of the sub-prime mortgage meltdown. Handsomely illustrated with photographs and facsimiles of stock certificates, Kobrak's book is not light fare, but it provides an in-depth, English-language perspective on the changing international roles of a major German financial institution. ENGLISH CANADIANS ON holiday in Britain and mainland Europe between 1870 and 1930 sought leisure and self-actualizing experiences. Interested in the growth and shape of tourism during that period, Cecilia Morgan analyses a variety of published and unpublished sources to seek the historical, cultural, and political significance of travel beyond national boundaries. For Morgan, tourism can be examined for what it reveals about gender, national and imperial identity, and class, racial, and ethnic relations. She is specifically concerned with exploring middle-class, Protestant identities and perceptions as revealed through tourism. Her subjects are Canadians who possessed the money and resources to take twoto three-month holidays, often drawing upon kith and kin connections at their destinations. In common with others around the world of the same class and ancestry, these tourists were going 'Home'.
Chapters are sleekly organized into an appealing itinerary. Keen to capture the sensory dimensions of travel, both the prologue and epilogue make reference to sea-sickness. The past is brought alive through dense empirical detail. Morgan's main sources are just under fifty unpublished document collections from across Canada and a large selection of newspaper and periodical coverage of overseas tourism. The focus is on subjectivities as revealed through travel diaries and published travel accounts. Interestingly, the sources bear similarities to the writings of imperial foreign correspondents, and even imperial textbooks, but while they might have influenced what was written in diaries, these are beyond the confines of the study. history and empire in Scotland, England, and Ireland then follow. Morgan continues her previous critical heritage interests, revealing tourism as a quest for the invention of tradition. Distinction is drawn between Britishness in Scotland and England, and then again with Ireland, where it is argued that the Irish were excluded from a narrative of progress and development. An individual chapter is dedicated to London as imperial capital, with the internationally popular Buckingham Palace, Westminster Abbey, and St Paul's Cathedral interpreted as tourist sites with 'interlinked meanings of gender, modernity, nation, and empire' (p. 201).
Attention then switches to the public and social spaces of tourism in Britain, with a focus on middle-class women and observations of the working class at the seaside. Then it's across the Channel for two chapters on European sojourns, where Catholicism emerges to usually suspicious Protestant Canadians as a fascinating, unthreatening spectacle.
While wartime reveals national and imperial attitudes at their most patriotic, because of the 'magnitude of such a project', Morgan has made a 'very considered decision not to examine wartime discourses and practices ' (p. 21). This serves to emphasize heritage and cultural writings, with tourists of the 1920s displaying continuity with the places visited before the First World War. Arguing for some change in the patterns of tourists, a final chapter on the 1920s does include battlefield tourism, and it is argued that international diplomacy through travel became more important at that time. An indicator of continuity, Europe still made English Canadians feel 'English'.
Morgan displays a finely tuned awareness of her sources, for both the insights that they offer and also for their limitations. She highlights the differences between published and unpublished sources. With her sources revealing many intricacies and ambiguities, Morgan is aware of the difficulty in measuring the impact of cultural attitudes, values, and perceptions. She highlights the importance of individual personality and attitude, and argues that tourism could exacerbate existing prejudices and previously formed opinions. She is careful to suggest not reading too much into comments made by sudden experts. The book does not cover what happened when the tourists arrived back in Canada and whether or not they felt differently after their holiday.
Modernity is an important theme. These were Canadians who could afford to taste the modern sophistication of ships, hotels, and department stores, and during the inter-war years, cars, planes, and moving sidewalks. The Canadians felt variously old-fashioned and comparatively modern in different locations. For example, London had a sound of a modern 'roar and bustle', while the noise in Italian cities in the south was 'semi-rural' and only 'partially modern' (p. 282).
By The International History Review compared to the bulk of the work, which focuses on the two world wars and the cold war.
In those focal sections of the book, Rawling presents a solidly researched, yet traditional and descriptive, history of the evolution of military medicine in Canada. The strength of his work lies in his ability to show a clear evolution in philosophy as well as in the medical practices and procedures of the Canadian forces. For the untested, untried army of the First World War, he shows the pattern of trial and error leading to a much more organized and efficient medical service in the Second World War, to fairly elevated states of preparedness in later conflicts. He establishes a clear cause-and-effect relationship between war-induced injuries and the evolution of military medical science, and shows that, from one military intervention to the other, the Canadian armed forces were able to learn not only from their successes and errors of previous wars but also from those of their allies. Certain themes, such as mental illness, epidemic diseases, and scientific discoveries, receive special attention in the text, wherein Rawling demonstrates medical progress over time in both understanding and treatment, and effect.
What remains unclear in Rawling's work is the relative weight of this progress within the larger context of the histoiy of medicine. The debate about the benefits of war as a driver of scientific progress is ongoing, with various historians arguing that many of the wartime medical achievements have diminished in importance when considered against the havoc war brings to societies in general. However, one argument that was put forward by Fielding Garrison in 1929 while commenting on the events of the First World War 1 remains valid in the light of later armed conflicts, namely that military medicine should be recognized more for its administrative successes rather than its medical innovations. While not explicitly discussed in Rawling's work, his presentation of the history of military medicine in Canada supports this idea. Rawling's work strongly presents structures, groups, and units: he is able to draw a clear picture of the various pieces of the Canadian armed forces and show how they are articulated. This is where his capacity to describe the day-to-day activities of medical units on the field and to unravel the minutiae of military organization in all its complexity has the most effect. The chapters relating to the post-Korean War years represent the pinnacle of this evolution, showing how the Canadian medical corps planned, trained, and prepared for possible military action related to the cold war.
As a result, Rawling's book provides a coherent and detailed overview of the evolution of Canadian military medicine. However, overall, the work suffers from the absence of an intellectual framework for positioning the history of Canadian military medicine in a broader context. In the words of historian Roger Cooter: 'To assume that medicine in war can be treated as if it were outside of society, or merely reactive to war, is not only to deny that war is part of a social process, but also to overlook that medicine itself is constitutive of the society and economy in which it is practised." Rawling's book raises many issues. Among them are questions about the contextualization of military medicine in the larger scope of civilian life, politics, decision-making, economic trends, evolution of gender and race relations, changes in culture, development of the professional identities of healthcare providers: it presents Canadian military medicine in isolation, giving few answers to those larger preoccupations.
One also regrets the absence of a proper conclusion to provide the reader with overall findings and thoughts regarding military medicine in Canada. If the ultimate enemy remains death, how can we measure, over time, the progress of military medicine in Canada? In the current context, with increasing casualties from the involvement in Afghanistan and the increasing reliance of the military on civilian medical services, what is the role of military medicine? Such findings would allow readers to deepen their understanding of military medicine and its place in our society. Until Rawling or other historians choose to lend their minds to answering these questions, this book remains a good reference for those who seek to understand the evolution of Canadian military medical services.

Library & Archives Canada
GENEVIEVE ALLARD SONYA GRYPMA. allows for a breadth of detailed coverage on the Canadian side and opens the possibility for others to research the Chinese reaction in depth using Chineselanguage documentation. The introduction of Western nursing practice into Henan took place during a period of dramatic political and social upheavals caused by the Boxer Uprising, bandits and warlords, two world wars, and a revolution that finally terminated the North China Mission in 1947. When Canadian missionaries first arrived in Henan in 1888, nursing was seen as being subordinate to direct evangelism. So great was the physical danger perceived by missionaries in the early years, both from unsympathetic Chinese and from tropical disease, that a 'narrative of survival' came to characterize the Presbyterian work in Henan, including missionary nursing. It was only after the Boxer Uprising and the arrival in China of a second generation of missionary nurses that modern nursing was recognized as an important mission tool, as well as a vivid symbol of Christian service. Nevertheless, it took a long time to convince mission authorities of the need for modern hospitals and to achieve a high level of modern nursing care in them. Indeed, war and revolution meant that the golden age of nursing and nurse training only lasted for a brief time: between 1928 and 1937.
Canadian missionary nurses attempted to transfer to Henan the Canadian Nightingale system of nursing. The majority of them were graduates of the nursing school at the Toronto General Hospital but some also came from the Winnipeg General Hospital, the Royal Victoria Hospital in Montreal, and the University of British Columbia. A significant number were 'mish kids' drawn back to China who entered, via nursing, the family business of being professional missionaries. They found the cloistered comforts of the mission compounds and modernity of the hospitals therein at Anyang, Huaiqing, or Weihui decidedly preferable to the alternative of working in primitive Woman's Missionary Society hospitals in Canada in such desolate places as Smeaton, Saskatchewan or Hearst, Ontario. In training Chinese nurses, allowances had to be made for the sensibilities of Chinese culture, especially the need to train Christian male nurses to care for male patients (at a time when nursing in Canada was almost exclusively a female occupation). Unsurprisingly, the male and female Chinese nurses who graduated from the Canadian mission hospitals revealed that their nationalistic loyalty to China, in the face of Japanese aggression after 1937, was more important than loyalty to missionaries and their hospitals, or even Christianity.
Grypma has divided the book into seven chronological chapters and a conclusion. She has also added a short epilogue, which looks at what has happened to the mission hospitals and Christian community in north Henan up to 2003. The flourishing state of the Christian church and the fact that hospitals on the sites of former Canadian hospitals at Anyang and Weihui are providing state-of-the-art Western medicine and modern nursing services has allowed Grypma to suggest that 'Canadian missionaries were successful after all, albeit in unanticipated ways' xxxi. 3: September 2009 (p. 10). However, as is evidenced in appendix 5 (p. 245), knowing Canadian missionaries cost Chinese Christians their lives in 1947. It is doubtful, therefore, that current Henan medicine and Christianity owes much to pioneering efforts of Canadians. This does not detract, however, from the fact that Grypma has written a fine history of a most interesting aspect of the Canadian encounter with late nineteenth-and early twentieth-century China. FOR THE PAST seven decades, historians of the German military have concentrated their efforts on that institution's role in the two world wars of the twentieth century. Hardly a stone has been left unturned in the zest to come to terms with the strategic, operational, and tactical performance of both the imperial army and navy of 1914-18 and the Wehrmacht of 1939-45. Great attention has also been placed in researching the armed forces' place within, as well as their effect upon, Germany's diplomatic, economic, financial, political, and social policies. Given that intensity and concentration of effort, as well as the availability of new sources since the Wende of 1989-90, it is perhaps unsurprising that a new generation of German military historians has turned its attention to the period from Frederick IPs three Silesian Wars (1740-63) to the outbreak of the First World War in 1914. Both books are based in large measure on recently discovered materials in the former German Democratic Republic (GDR). Oliver Stein has analysed the Prusso-German military system of the late Wilhelmian period on the basis of some three thousand files believed to have been destroyed by Allied air raids on the Reichsarchiv at Potsdam in 1945, but which in fact had been removed to the offices of the Kriegsgesschichtliche Forschungsanstalt (Military History Research Office) just before those raids. The documents were moved to Moscow after 1945, returned to the GDR in 1988, and are today housed at the federal military archive at Freiburg. As well, the collapse of the GDR allowed Stein unfettered access to the records of the Saxon war ministry, which routinely received copies of major Prussian military documents, at the Saxon main state archive at Dresden. The historians who contributed to Die Preussische Armee were able to use regional archives in the former west and central Prussian provinces of the GDR between the Elbe and Oder rivers -roughly thirty thousand military-related files, soon to be published in a five-volume catalogue -to reassess long-held views of the  Prussia, 1713Prussia, -1807Prussia, , in 1997. Therein, Biisch argued that there had taken place a 'fusion' of the ancient Prussian manorial system with the modern Hohenzollern monarchy in the form of King Frederick William's 'canton system' of 1733. Willingly or unwillingly, Biisch argued, officers and men were recruited from and stationed in their home districts. The noble Junker was both lord and officer, the peasant both serf and recruit; in the process, the distinction between private and military life was obliterated. Not so, argue the historians of Die Preussische Armee. Especially Kroener and Rolf Straubel suggest that in the western and central Prussian provinces, at least, there had existed a 'tension-filled relationship' between the Junker's role as manorial lord and royal officer, and between 'patrimonial' and 'military' jurisdiction, a tense relationship that the Prussian nobility was ready at all times to exploit for its own advantage. Officer and manorial lord, in short, were not 'identical personalities', even under the canton system (p. 75). Instead of Biisch's 'social militarization', there had taken place what the authors term a 'socialization of the military system'. Their overall findings stand in stark contrast to the accepted wisdom: most nobles served only reluctantly, and saw military service as but a limited and 'time-specific' period in their lives; most officers relied on 'professionalization' rather than birth to further their careers, and retired or invalided officers found post-military employment primarily in low-ranking rather than in top-echelon civil service jobs. In this way, the authors suggest, the Prussian military system of the eighteenth century had been in line with that of Austria or France. In short, there had existed no Prussian Sonderweg of'social militarization' as expounded by Biisch (p. 84). While the anthology offers new insights and a welcome revision of traditional interpretations of the early modern Prussian state on the basis of many of the records of former Brandenburg province, it should be remembered that the heartland of Biisch's symbiotic 'military and social system' lay in the Prussian provinces to the east -in West and East Pomerania as well as in West and East Prussia, that is, in today's Poland, where it awaits similar re-analysis.

Royal Military College of Canada
Stein's research monograph argues against an entire set of widely accepted theses. First, he refutes the argument that, under a 'conservative militarism', the Prussian war ministry purposefully refused to expand the size of the army before 1914 in order to maintain the internal cohesion and homogeneity especially of its officer corps. Second, he argues that the war ministry did not, as is frequently claimed, keep the quota of workers and urban dwellers artificially low in the ranks; xxxi. 3: September 2009 living and health conditions (tuberculosis) in the industrial cities rather than wilful bureaucrats in Berlin accounted for the greater numbers of agrarian labourers in the military. Third, Stein suggests on the basis of his examination of the army's training and deployment manuals that the military leadership in Berlin was not preparing the Kaiser's corps royal for a 'domestic civil war' primarily against the 'godless Socialists', but in fact for defence of the homeland -by defensive or preemptive means. Fourth, Stein rejects the widespread notion that the armaments industry dictated the pace of Germany's military policy before 1914. Army as well as navy armaments, he postulates, were driven 'exclusively' by federal officials. There existed no 'military-industrial complex' in imperial Germany before the war.
Finally, Stein tackles the broad debate about whether German military expansion -specifically, the massive army bills of 1893 and 1912-13 -was a simple question of'quality' (Prussian war ministry) versus 'quantity' (Great General Staff), as has been generally assumed by historians of the German military. Stein argues that compromise ruled the day (pp. 338ff.), an unsurprising finding given the 'polycratic' (Stig Forster) nature of the imperial German system with its hydra-like governing head. More, Stein suggests that Chancellor Theobald von Bethmann Hollweg, far from being the 'enigmatic' bureaucrat, in fact kept tight control of military expenditures under the 'primacy of politics' (pp. 3ogff.). Bethmann Hollweg's support of army expansion, primarily as a 'battering ram' (Alfred von Tirpitz) against spiralling naval outlays, might be seen as a victory for the general staff and its demand for 'more troops', but it came about only because of the chancellor's tight-fisted handling of the matter, with both the Kaiser and the Reichstag.
And it came at a price. By using the public outcry for increased army outlays after the two Moroccan crises to advantage, Bethmann Hollweg succumbed to the 'pressure from below' and adjusted his policy, not according to the needs of national policy but rather to those of the mob. When he discovered that Germany could not finance both army and navy, his 'primacy of politics' turned into a disastrous 'policy of finances'. The 'compromise' German army of 1914 could neither convince European powers of its benign intentions nor execute the Schlieffen Plan.
Both books are welcome additions to the vast literature on the Prussian-German military system since the eighteenth century. They indicate the richness of the archival materials accessible to scholars after the demise of the GDR, and the willingness of German military historians to pose new questions and to suggest different avenues of investigation. In short, historical 'revisionism' as it ought to be practised. Hayne has shown that French diplomats were more prone to independence than was common in that period. Some French diplomats have received individual attention from historians, but Paleologue remains barely studied. Irwin Halfond is thus to be commended for this fascinating look at a man at the centre of such controversy. Halfond renders a valuable service by using Paleologue's literary writings to show a character steeped in idealism and overly confident in his own abilities, and then trying to interpret his diplomatic activity through this lens. A harsh critic of those around him, Paleologue thought few of his superiors actually 'superior' to him in motivation or capability. While most of them lacked, he thought, a central ideal that they would devote all of their energies to achieve, Paleologue believed he possessed the necessary ideals and skills and was prepared to apply them to the security and greatness of France. With little regard for anyone above him, save for childhood confrere, Raymond Poincare, Paleologue had no compulsion about pursuing his goals, even if they did not conform to the (what he considered) ill-conceived plans of the ministers. If Paleologue believed ministerial instructions differed from what was suitable, he would often ignore them, obfuscate his actual activity, and communicate to Paris only that information he wanted it to have, in order to persuade the government of his view. As head of mission, he treated both Bulgaria and Russia in a similar fashion. As political director of the French foreign ministry, Paleologue sought to use his intimate knowledge of state secrets, thanks to his long service in key positions, to steer foreign ministers, and ultimately state foreign policy, along the lines that he thought best.

University of Calgary
After some early missions abroad, Paleologue was entrusted with contacts between the Quai d'Orsay and military intelligence. He gained exclusive control in the ministry over those records, making him the logical choice as foreign-ministry representative at the Alfred Dreyfus proceedings. While Paleologue saw no documents that proved Dreyfus's guilt, Paleologue believed him guilty, only convinced otherwise after following developments for several years.
In Bulgaria, as minister from 1907 to 1912, and convinced after the Bosnian crisis that continental war was inevitable, Paleologue regularly deceived the Quai d'Orsay as he sought to manipulate affairs in order to strengthen the Triple Entente and the French position. Recalled to France, he was only saved from xxxi. 3: September 2009 demotion by Poincare's election as prime minister in 1912. Elevated to political director, Paleologue sought to enhance France's position -and settle scores with old rivals -by changing French representation abroad.
In Russia, as ambassador, Paleologue followed the same approach. This manipulation is clearest during the July Crisis, as Paleologue plied the Russians with encouragement unapproved by Paris and concealed Russian actions from his government so that it could not interfere with what Paleologue thought were critical preparations of the alliance for war. Halfond concludes from Paleologue's actions 'that he did not merely accept the inevitability of war long prophesized but instead intrigued to make certain that no last-minute compromises would be reached' (p. 98). He intrigued similarly during negotiations over Ottoman partition and over the post-war balance of power in Europe.
This distillation of Paleologue's character explains much of what has troubled historians about his actions, especially during the July Crisis and the war. Indeed, one is amazed at the extent to which Paleologue undercut his own government. There are times, however, when Halfond's enthusiasm for this thesis goes too far. Most important, his picture of Paleologue during the July Crisis is too one-sided; Jean Stengers, in '1914: The Safety of Ciphers and the Outbreak of the First World War' {Intelligence and International Relations, ed. C. Andrew and J. Noakes [1988], pp. 29-48), not in the book's bibliography, has shown that actually the Russians, with the French military attache, sufficiently distrusted Paleologue not to inform him in a timely fashion of the mobilization decisions on 29 and 30 July, which absolves Paleologue of some guilt for Paris being poorly informed. Later, Halfond discounts Paleologue's account of the Russian foreign minister's threats to resign if France did not behave as he wished, but a broader look at Sergei Sazonov's behaviour reveals that the foreign minister was prone to make such threats. Halfond's narrative, then, must still be used with other recent work.
But this does not take away from the picture of a diplomat run amok. By exposing Paleologue's unspoken assumptions, Halfond has shed new light on the odd twists of France's diplomacy through this period. Chinese almost certainly died, is a model of its kind, a meticulously researched, nuanced, beautifully produced and illustrated reconstruction of an episode that instructively elucidates both the practical workings of British imperialism and the politics of historical memory, explaining why, for close to a century, all involved purposefully consigned these events to near-oblivion. Much politics is local. One striking feature of the brief hut bloody insurrection was how easily, given slightly more tactful handling, it might have been avoided. Despite a short-lived opportunistic attempt, as the 1997 handover of Hong Kong to China approached, to depict the uprising as a nationalist protest against anticipated British rule, fears among wealthy villagers that the new regime would dismantle their profitable existing lease arrangements and buy up property seem to have been far more potent in provoking resistance from several powerful gentry families. Had British officials in Hong Kong more efficiently publicized their readiness to accept traditional land tenure and other New Territories customs prior to taking possession of the area, they would probably have defused efforts at rebellion.
In a region where rivalries among villages were fierce and memories of past conflicts bitter, support for the revolt was far from unanimous, and some communities held aloof. The 'trained bands', local village militias established with support from the provincial administration, provided most of the manpower for the armed resistance, while several of the leaders possessed prestigious military degrees. The Chinese authorities in Guangdong province apparently took a somewhat ambivalent attitude to plans for the uprising, with the viceroy in Canton promising the British governor, Sir Henry Blake, a smooth transition, while a Chinese military officer told disaffected villagers the small force he commanded would not interfere, whatever they chose to do. Such tacit encouragement may have been on an ad hoc and individual basis. Hase's assiduous research in all available English and Chinese sources has unearthed no concrete evidence of direct support from official Chinese functionaries. British officials certainly suspected Chinese government representatives of involvement in the revolt; after its defeat, they retaliated by temporarily occupying Sham Chun and expelling Chinese troops and magistrates permanently from Kowloon Walled City.
If the Chinese documentary record is unclear, contemporary British accounts were less than frank, since the victors had much to conceal. Most senior British officials in Hong Kong were, Hase points out, exemplars of the best kind of colonial administrators, accomplished linguists many of whom were well attuned to Chinese mores. Ironically, the deep understanding and respect for Chinese culture of the colonial secretary, Stewart Lockhart, had so instilled him with traditional Confucian beliefs in authority that he became the staunchest advocate by far of punitive repression of the rebels, an outlook that would eventually block his chances of becoming governor of Hong Kong. Blake preferred a conciliatory approach but, thanks to botched communications, Major General William Gas-coigne, commander of British forces in Hong Kong, Captain Ernest Berger of the Hong Kong Regiment, and other officers involved in the hostilities, employed far greater force against the rebels than was customary when squelching low-level threats to British imperial control. Hase situates the Six-Day War in the broader context of contemporary British imperialist thinking and military doctrine, especially writings by prominent soldiers, notably Lord Roberts, on suppressing indigenous insurgencies. Ignoring all basic precepts for such operations, on this occasion British forces were badly supplied, lacking food, dry clothing, tents, and heavy artillery, plagued by poor intelligence and inadequate communications, and without interpreters who could deal with friendly New Territories residents. Their ultimate victory, in which no British troops died, came largely because the predominantly Indian soldiers were tough mountain fighters, experienced in Afghan campaigns, with firepower far superior to that of the rebels.
Reporting afterwards on these events, British officials sedulously sought to conceal operational and logistical blunders by greatly downplaying the scale of opposition and the loss of life among the rebels. Several hundred Chinese young men and some women, mostly poor, died in the fighting; little was done to commemorate them. Pragmatic Chinese gentry leaders, now resigned to British rule, joined an effective conspiracy of silence, as Blake and other officials resumed classic imperial strategies of working with local elites, eschewing reprisals, and treating former opponents as valued allies. It was Germany that replaced France in Ireland's affections and, from a German perspective, division in Ireland and between Ireland and Britain in the years before 1914 gave great reassurance of British paralysis. It was in Germany that both Unionists and Nationalists bought arms before the war and it was to Germany that Irish republicans looked for assistance once war broke out. It was in Ireland that Germany saw a real chance of embarrassing Britain, perhaps even detaching it from the wartime alliance. Aan de Wiel follows Sir Roger Casement's efforts and the hapless attempt of the And JVorge, a German cargo vessel disguised as Norwegian, to supply the rebels in 1916, and in doing so he uses both untranslated German publications and foreign ministry archives. This is a familiar story, but it is embellished here and aan de WiePs account of the further attempts to stimulate a second Rising in 1917 (called off by the unready Irish) breaks new ground. That these German efforts were part of a triple strategy to detach Britain, centring on Verdun, and also involving a U-boat campaign, is newly documented. Until the end of the war, Ireland remained a drain on British resources and Britain's mismanagement ensured that its recruitment potential remained unfulfilled. Continuing manpower problems, which led to the major conscription crisis of 1918 (echoed in Australia and Canada), are well covered.

University of Hong Kong
Irish America is another well-ploughed field. Bernadette Whelan's United States Foreign Policy and Ireland: From Empire, to Independence, lgijsg (2006;rev. ante, xxix [2007], 634) came too late to be included here, but aan de Wiel's German sources for correspondence between Irish-Americans and their German friends, often intercepted by British intelligence, prove illuminating. German and French diplomats well understood the significance of Irish-and German-American lobbies and each tried to harness or to counter their influence. The French sought to cultivate Irish America, not without some success, while on a practical level the Germans encouraged sabotage of ammunition supplies bound for Britain. Russian diplomats also endeavoured to reconcile Irish America to the allied cause, an endeavour sometimes helped by Irish-and German-American religious antagonisms.
Reactions to the 1916 Rising are recorded here in Vienna and Budapest and in France, Switzerland, Italy, and the Vatican, as well as in the United States, where reaction encouraged Germany to conclude that the United States would not join the war on Britain's side. Germany's failure to reduce its U-boat campaign proved decisive in the opposite direction, however, while Prime Minister David Lloyd George's Irish Convention reconciled US opinion long enough to see US forces mobilized.
Austria-Hungary's perspectives and its comfort drawn from Irish events before the war receive treatment but little is heard thereafter as that moribund empire xxxi. 3: September 2009 moved towards dissolution. The 1919 peace conference, which found the US president, Woodrow Wilson, resisting Ireland's attempts to hold him to his word regarding small nations, concludes the narrative. The US, French, and German delegations in their different ways needed British support and had no interest therefore in assisting Ireland. Meanwhile, Irish-Americans helped Congress reject Wilson's League of Nations hut pursuing that priority helped split their ranks as the newly arrived Eamon de Valera tried to focus on winning the republic. This is a fascinating book, but some small criticisms are due. The mot juste escapes aan de Wiel from time to time, for example, and his paragraphs are often distractingly long. To refer to Erksine Hamilton Childers as 'Irish' is wrong (p. 29), the Ne Temere Decree (p. 94) is not well discussed, while 'Douglas' MacArthur (p. 129) should be 'Arthur'.
The division in the Irish Volunteers is wrong (p. 160) but correct later (p. 225). Francis Sheehy-Skeffington (p. 233) was murdered: 'executed' gives the wrong impression in 1916. Ginnell is Lawrence and Laurence on the same page (p. 357) while aan de Wiel does not seem to comprehend Lloyd George's remark that 'a referendum is a question of area' (p. 385): Unionists argued that the existing state, to which only a minority, in part of Ireland, was hostile, should decide. But these are quibbles and this book remains a wide-ranging, learned, balanced, and up-todate survey, lull of interest, insight, and enjoyment: an impressive addition to the canon. 'WHAT WE ARE doing here makes no sense and cannot be defended,' Ernst von Weizsacker wrote to his mother in November 1915. Weizsacker, who had joined the Kaiser's fleet in 1900, was referring to the German navy's inactivity. More than a year after the outbreak of the First World War, the decisive sea battle that he and most of his fellow officers confidently expected to take place between Britain and Germany had still not happened. Instead, they were in a stalemate dominated by the British navy, which continued until the end of the war. How the German and British naval officer corps experienced this period dominated by inactivity is the focus of Nicolas Wolz's book. His is a difficult task, considering that much of the story is about precisely that: waiting, and that the historiographical relevance of Wolz's subject is marked by what happened before and after this period. He makes the best of this dilemma, but cannot entirely escape it. In the first of three large chapters, Wolz surveys the historiography of Wilhelmine Flottenpolitik and the Anglo-German antagonism. He agrees with scholars such as Klaus Hildebrand: domestic and economic considerations explain the naval race only 'in small measure ' (p. 45); rather, the Anglo-German antagonism is to be seen as the result of an international constellation in which British and German interests were increasingly opposed to one another. But Wolz gives enough space to alternative interpretations, which makes this chapter a wellinformed and judicious treatment of the subject.

Queen's University of Belfast
The second and third chapters, based on Wolz's own research, do not really speak to this historiography, at least not directly. Here, he paints a vivid picture of everyday life as experienced by British and German naval officers during the war. Wolz weaves his material, taken mostly from officers' diaries, journals, and letters, into an Anglo-German portrait that suggests more similarities than differences. The officers of both navies were deeply envious of their equivalents in the army who were gaining 'battle glory'. Duty, exercises, and sports could not distract from the frustration about the inactivity of the fleet, nor could entertainment or alcohol. Apart from resenting their own passivity, there was a strong mutual dislike amongst British and German officers: no traces of Anglo-or Germanophilia here. Most of all, the inactivity that characterized the two navies during the war eroded what Wolz sees as the key motivating factor for the officer corps of both fleets: honour.
What makes Wolz's observations about honour relevant is not so much the debate about Flottenpolitik and Anglo-German relations that he surveys so well in the first chapter, but the events at the very end of the war. While the German army's construction of the Dolchstofi has been examined extensively, the navy's equivalent myth is less well researched. One of the navy's role models for how to redeem 'honour' was Admiral Count Maximilian von Spee. Commanding the Imperial Navy's East-Asia squadron, Spee was met in December 1914 by a superior British force off the Falklands. The guns of his ships could not reach the British, whose range was longer. Wolz describes the ensuing destruction of the German squadron as 'infernal'. Instead of capitulating, Spee ordered the futile battle to be continued until his ships sank with flying colours -with himself, his two sons, and two thousand men on board. Wolz suggests that there was nothing peculiarly German about Spee's example: most officers in the British navy saw this as the only acceptable way in which to be defeated.
In October 1918, the German navy was hindered by the sailors' mutiny from a suicidal 'last sortie', which would have allowed it a similar 'honourable defeat'. In the view of most officers, it was thus the revolution that denied the navy the opportunity to rid itself of the war's humiliation. The scuttling of the German fleet at Scapa Flow half a year later, in comparison, was a much weaker attempt to restore the navy's honour. What remained was a profound disloyalty amongst the officer corps towards the new republic and a longing for a strong national figure who would offer redemption. This is not necessarily a new insight, but the material collected by Wolz shows conclusively how deep-seated this mentality was

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amongst what had been one of the KaiserreicWs most privileged and influential social groups, and how much of a legacy their obsession with honour and wartime humiliation was for the Weimar Republic.  ' (p. 15). His response is that he intends to examine his policies without preconceptions and objectively explore his hitherto neglected 'private action' alongside his 'public silence' (p. 17). It is an admirable aim rendered difficult by his recourse to some of the controversial and contentious secondary sources that apparently have contributed to his assessment. O'Shea also pledges to examine Pacelli's crucial but largely ignored pre-papal life and career (p. 18) and does so in chapters 4 through 7, which focus respectively on his family background and childhood, early diplomatic career, tenure as nuncio in Munich and Berlin, and finally his service as papal secretary of state. These chapters provide interesting details and valuable insights into the development of the future pontiff and the emergence of his world-view. However, the picture drawn is far from consistent, especially as regards his 'silence' during the Holocaust, examined in chapter 8, the heart of the book. On the one hand, O'Shea claims that Pius XII did not speak out publicly or issue an unambiguous condemnation of the Holocaust. On the other hand, he hints that he encouraged others to do so, 'through Vatican Radio, L'Osservatore Romano, the Holy See's prisoner of war information agencies, and direct contact with nuncios and ambassadors' (p. 322).

Birkbeck, University of London
O'Shea also seeks to explain the pope's motivation for his cautious language and his failure to cite specific abuses of the Jews as the main victims of the Nazi genocide. In chapters 2, 'Contempt as Virtue ' (pp. 54-96), and 3, l Et in Unum ecclesiam ' (pp. 97-124), O'Shea concentrates on the anti-Judaism within the Church and believed this played a part in determining Pacelli's failure to speak out more publicly on the plight of the Jews. 'The weight of centuries ofjudeophobia, combined with the unarticulated acceptance of Jews as lesser victims,' O'Shea writes, 'proved too great for Pius to act or speak more decisively' (p. 28). He adds that though Pius was anti-Judaic, he was not anti-Semitic (p. 175), and provides a clear differentiation of the religious discrimination of the Church from the racial one of the Nazi regime.
Elsewhere in the book, O'Shea indicates that factors other than anti-Judaism influenced the course Pius XII pursued during the Holocaust. Indeed, he writes that the reason Pius did not say more was not because he did not care for victimswhich I believe would exclude both anti-Judaism and anti-Semitism -but because he had other priorities: mainly his obligation to defend the Church and Catholicism (p. 50), and his perception of the Soviet Union as a greater threat than Nazi Germany (p. 52). Furthermore, he notes that Pius did not speak out against earlier genocides in Poland and Croatia where the victims were mainly , and anti-Judaism was clearly not a factor. However, he returns to the role of anti-Judaism within the Church as an underlying cause of papal silence in his ninth and concluding chapter, , asserting that 'the sins of the Catholic Church during the Holocaust must rest upon the whole Church, not only the Vicar of Christ' (p. 334).
There are some errors in O'Shea's chronology of Pacelli's education: he entered the Liceo in 1885 not 1891 (p. 134), and some typographical errors: listing Archivio Segreta Vaticano instead of Segreto (p. 14) and Non Habbiamo Bisogno instead of Abbiamo (pp. 196, 242), that do not detract from the scholarly effort of the author, whose work is based upon a wide series of primary and secondary sources cited in his bibliography (pp. 335-48). In the nine chapters, O'Shea provides much useful information about Pacelli and his policies, albeit not always in a consistent and coherent narrative. Among other contributions, he cites the impact of Pietro Gasparri on Pacelli's formation and diplomacy, not always recognized and appreciated (pp. 176, 220-1), while cataloguing the positive humanitarian efforts or 'Crusade of Charity' Pacelli initiated on behalf of Jews as well as Christians. Finally, while O'Shea is free to give his opinion on whether this pope should be declared a saint, as he does in his concluding chapter, I believe this calls into question his objectivity. Mancall, and others. S. A. Smith courageously returns to the subject with this masterful multi-archival study of the two revolutions as an exercise in comparative social history. Smith draws upon years of solid scholarship in both Russian and Chinese labour history. In this series of lectures first presented at Queen's University in Belfast, he examines the early twentieth-century social history of both revolutions, searching for comparative insights into weighty questions of social identity and modernity. The specific focus for comparison is on the migrant work forces of St Petersburg from the 1880s to 1917 and of Shanghai from the 1900s to the 1940s. The question Smith asks is why class formation in a Marxist sense inadequately explains the kinds of social change taking place in these cities at the heart of the Chinese and Russian revolutions. By looking more broadly, he finds answers in what he calls an evolving capitalist modernity of outlook on the part of the migrant workers. The latter he carefully defines as a series of simultaneous, multiple identities -namely, that of native place, gender, self, and nationality -that were more important to worker populations than class-consciousness.
In a well-constructed introductory chapter, Smith explains the relevant historiographical and theoretical background behind his use of contested terms like 'modernity'. The summary of such a vast, complicated literature is itself a tour de force. What follows, as the heart of the book, are four chapters on the changing nature of native place, gender, self, and national identities of the new urban workforce in Russia and China. Concrete examples are drawn from the rich secondary literature on the social history of St Petersburg and Shanghai at the turn of the century, augmented when necessary by Smith's own investigation of primary sources in both Russian and Chinese languages. Again, Smith does a superb job of summarizing the latest work in Russian and Chinese social history and applying it to his concern with the evolution of overlapping, multiple identities -conscious and unconscious. The book is recommended as a useful reference guide at the graduate level to the modern social history of both countries. For this reason alone, the absence of an index or bibliography is unfortunate.
Smith is at his best in mapping the changing gender, native place, self, and national identities over the urban social landscape of twentieth-century China and Russia. He shows how the comparative lens is useful in trying to understand the relative weight historically of different strands of social change. Smith demonstrates, for example, the relative insignificance of the gender issue to the Russian revolution in contrast to its greater importance for the Chinese, although in neither case did the movement for gender equality resemble the Western pattern.
The fifth and final chapter of this short book is tided 'Workers and Communist Revolution'. According to the introduction, it will bring the multiple identities discussed earlier to bear on an analysis of the social dynamics of early Soviet Russia and Mao-era China. As periods when the socialist revolution had been just achieved and the rhetoric of worker-class supremacy was at its height, Smith finds xxxi. 3: September 2009 class identity in reality being forced upon the populace, most of whom saw themselves more in terms of the elements that make up capitalist modernity. But in support of this assertion, the argument seems to this reader to wander and fall flat, with too many lines of comparison being introduced. For example, Smith leaves St Petersburg and Shanghai to discuss the rural scene in search of an explanation of why revolutionary parties came to power in both countries. In China, he focuses on the build-up of military power in base areas around Shanghai via the New Fourth Army, and in Russia on the key role of the pre-existing weak state structure and the Bolshevik use of coercion backed by the Red Army.
Threatening to diminish the superb social history of the preceding chapters, the book ends with the assertion that neither the peasant nor the worker was responsible for the success of the Russian or Chinese revolution. It was the exercise of military power from base areas in the hinterland that turned empires into modern nation states. And then the elites of the new regimes pushed a twisted modernity of forced industrialization down the throats of Chinese and Russian workers. It was as if the century-long struggle of the workers of Shanghai and St Petersburg never mattered. As Daniela Rossini on a number of occasions implies, Bush, in his pursuit of liberal imperialism, is, to some degree, the child of Woodrow Wilson, US president 1913-21, that is, through the First World War and the peacemaking. This Southern Democrat and sometime political scientist based at Princeton was, as Rossini notes, the man 'who led the United States in its transition from its provincialism and isolationism toward international engagement and world political leadership' (p. 61). According to Wilson's vision, she adds, 'Christian ideals and democracy, once they had triumphed everywhere, would provide a peaceful and enlightened world community.' They would do so, since, as Wilson had written in xxxi. 3: September 2009 1893, 'Providence has presided over our [American] affairs with a strange indulgence ' (pp. 64-5). And, to give God a hand, the Wilson presidency, through the Committee on Public Information, rapidly created after the United States entered the war, sponsored propaganda both at home and abroad, with a zeal and popular penetration that would later be associated with 'totalitarian' regimes (although 'Madison Avenue' may have always been good at it, too).
How then, Rossini asks, did this advancing society, this United States with the future in its sight, cope with the much less modern liberal Italy throughout the war and its settlement? In answering this question, she ranges widely, going back into the nineteenth century to read Henry James and the rest, while not forgetting the mass of'Italian' emigrants, who, during the two or three decades before 1914, had begun to flock across the Atlantic. As Rossini shows starkly, such contact scarcely brought comprehension, however. Indeed, once battle began for Italy in 1915 and the United States in 1917, the two states ran 'parallel wars'. Wilson, Edward House, and the rest of the US leadership had little understanding of Sidney Sonnino, Vittorio Emanuele Orlando, and the other Italians, and their blindness was reciprocated.
The fee was paid in 1919. Rossini illustrates vividly the brief moment when Wilson's 'charisma' was successfully marketed in Italy. On a five-day visit to the country, she says, everywhere he went, he was greeted by cheering crowds, eager to hail him as the Messiah of the new world that was about to spring from the rubble of warfare. People displayed their devotion to him in a variety of ways: burning candles before pictures of him, scattering sand before his feet to honor him, kissing his signature, or clustering along railroad tracks, just to watch the president's train go by (p. 180).
Deflation followed. On 23 April, Wilson issued an appeal to the Italian people over the heads of their political representatives in regard to the Fiume question; according to Rossini, although the depth of her research beyond the literate classes is not wholly convincing here, Wilson thereby at once alienated 'the Italian people'. He thus became an indirect cause of Fascism and the more aggressive Italian imperialism that would characterize the inter-war period.
With a tinge of present patriotism, Rossini is inclined to blame Wilson and his entourage for failing to give proper place to the 'emotion' stirred in Italians by their country's participation in the war, or to plumb the resulting firmness of their demand that they receive 'justice' in the Adriatic. Perhaps she is right, although her case would be better if she had done something to investigate the extent to which the Slavs of Dalmatia were committed 'emotionally' to building their nation, too. But the value of Rossini's book does not really lie in its diplomatic history. It is worth reading rather for its revelation of the origins of modern national propaganda and for its intriguing study of how a politician's image can swiftly pass from boom to bust. Saint Woodrow of January 1919 had, by April, in Italy been reduced to the abusive term ""figlio di Wilsorf (son of Wilson) (p. 190), so as not to say son of a whore. Can it be part of modernity that a sword of Damocles hangs over the reputation of all political celebrities, if times turn against them?  (1978; rev. ante, i [1979], 466) documents the permanent undersecretary's strategy for maintaining good relations with Benito Mussolini in order to counter the threat from Adolf Hitler. Unlike Vansittart, Gladwyn Jebb never attained the rank of permanent under-secretary but, as Sean Greenwood's erudite and exhaustive biography shows, he did play a key role in a number of international developments in the mid-twentieth century. These included arguments in favour of the economic appeasement of Germany in the 1930s, developing the Special Operations Executive during the war, writing the blueprint for the United Nations, building Western security links in the late 1940s, and, in his final diplomatic post as ambassador at Paris between 1954 and i960, helping to persuade the British government of the advantages of membership in the European Economic Community. His commitment to Europe remained firm when, rather than being content to live in quiet retirement he became, among other roles, deputy leader of the Liberal Party in the house of lords. In charting Jebb's career, chronologically, through these various challenges Greenwood adds significantly to our understanding of a controversial and colourful character who himself wrote a substantial autobiography of more than four hundred pages: The Memoirs of Lord Gladwyn (1972). In doing so, Greenwood exploits not only Jebb's own papers but a vast amount of material from other private collections, the British National Archives, and published sources. While the biography was written at the invitation of Jebb's family, it does not hide the fact that he could be a difficult character with whom to deal, a man with a superior, intimidating, even rude manner, who pressed some pet subjects to the point of boring those he was trying to win over. But it also draws out his sharp intellect, fearlessness in the face of opposition, and capacity for hard work; and it shows how his social ineptitude probably reflected a deep insecurity born of a distant relationship with his father. There is a remarkably detailed reconstruction of events throughout the book, from his friendship with Harold Nicolson, beginning with their service in Persia under 'Pompous Percy' Loraine in the 1920s, to a very different relationship with the towering figure of General Charles de Gaulle, whom Jebb continued to meet during the 1960s. Especially impressive is the painstaking reconstruction of Jebb's precise role in developing the concept of'Western Union' under Ernest Bevin in 1947-8, a subject on which Greenwood has published before. Paradoxically, some areas are only thinly covered because the survival of evidence itself is patchy: as Greenwood makes clear in the acknowledgements, Jebb's activities during the 'phoney war' of September 1939 to May 1940 have 'largely eluded' his grasp (p. ix).

University of Western
This is another volume that has been handsomely produced by Martinus Nijhoff, with twenty-nine photographs, a large font size, and the use of footnotes rather than endnotes. The index is not entirely reliable: for some reason, it entirely avoids reference to Anthony Eden's role during the Suez crisis, though this is done full justice by Greenwood in the text (pp. 324-50). But it is refreshing to see a publisher allowing such a substantial study, not far off the five-hundred-page mark, to appear on a subject that many would have limited to half that length. The corollary may be a relatively high price tag but, given the significance of Jebb to such key areas of twentieth-century history as appeasement, the United Nations, and European integration, the investment is more than worthwhile. This is a study that many international historians will want to consult. Greenwood has certainly shown just how significant a diplomatic career can be in shaping world events and how valuable such biographies are. It's with the cold war, at page 73, that the main story actually starts -and it's a convincing one: the United States had not even been sure they wanted a zone of occupation in Austria at all, as it saw Austria as part of the German problem and did not rule out a merger of the Western zones of both countries. Maybe even more important was the impact of the Czechoslovak coup d'etat in February 1948 that convinced the United States that any withdrawal from Austria was dangerous and likely to lead to a Soviet take-over. Thus, even before the start of the Korean War and the Communist riots in the fall of 1950 in Vienna, the United States was keen to further some kind of Austrian rearmament.
Finally, the 'shadow of the German problem' exerted its dialectic to the full when the Western powers opted for German membership of NATO in the fall of 1954. Even though sources only allow us to know what the West thought the Russians were doing, Steininger makes a plausible case that it was this turn of events that prompted Vyacheslav Molotov to offer the Austrians a deal that might serve as a model for Germany, too. While the Western powers were sceptical about the wisdom of the Austrians pursuing that 'neutralistic' option, there are some indications that the Austrians regarded the Russian invitation not only as their best, but maybe even as their last, chance to prevent a partitioning of their country. Konrad Adenauer was livid about what he called the Austrian scandal ('Schweinerei') but if Steininger is right, it was exactly his hard-line stand against neutrality that gave the Austrians their opening. THIS SOLID AND well-researched book is the best account of external intelligence in Canada. Kurt F.Jensen argues that, during the Second World War, Canadian civil and military agencies developed decent capabilities in signals intelligence, supported by officials and senior officers, with politicians out of the loop. Conversely, Canada did not create independent means for external human intelligence, though it did support British work in the field, perhaps more than it did in signals intel-

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ligence. These experiences shaped structures after 1945, when Canada chose to maintain existing services for signals intelligence, but not to create new ones for human espionage. The book focuses on Canadian signals intelligence between 1939 and 1951. Jensen demonstrates that, given the limits to its position in 1938 and resources afterwards, it did well. Its attacks on the diplomatic codes of Japan and France (Vichy and Gaullist), and traffic analysis against the German U-boats, were a useful contribution to Allied intelligence and strategy, though not vital, and less significant and advanced than the work of Australia. Even by the cryptologic standards of 1938, Canada in 1945 stood in the third tier, with no standing in the key developments of the art, mathematization, and mechanization. Nonetheless, Canada was the only ally outside Britain and the United States to receive an independent operational command, with its own intelligence system, in the northwest Atlantic. When compared to other intelligence Britain and the United States received on Japanese occupied territories between 1942 and 1945, that which Canadian codebreakers provided on China was unusually accurate, significant, and reliable. It interested Britain and the United States; even more so the material derived from Free French traffic.
Experience with signals intelligence in combat impressed Canadian military officers, while diplomats abroad knew how much Britain and the United States valued the source. Many mandarins in Ottawa were less impressed, because signals intelligence had given them little. During 1944-5, these different experiences shaped a debate over post-war Canadian involvement in intelligence, marked by individual personality and a neurotic contempt by civil service officials towards military officers who, in fact, understood the situation better. Ultimately, the mandarins concluded that intelligence, and an independent external policy, were here to stay. Canada needed good intelligence. That could not be acquired through its own means alone, but solely by maintaining the wartime arrangement, where Canada contributed to and gained from a collective Anglo-Saxon pot; fortunately, its partners all doubted that they could go it alone, either. Thus, Canada, Britain, the United States, Australia, and New Zealand entered a signals intelligence alliance that persists to this day, giving Canada respectable strength in the field, far ahead of countries like France, Germany, and Japan. Jensen, finally, describes the evolution and some of the output of Canadian intelligence analysis during the early cold war, showing that it gave Canada an independent capability to challenge US assessments of Soviet capabilities and intentions, during a time when Canada mattered to international affairs. One may, however, wonder whether such work attracted much attention in Ottawa or abroad after 1968, and how much use Canadian officials ever made of any of the intelligence they received.
The book has its limits. It skips over events before 1939, and misconstrues some of Canada's involvement with other countries. Yet during the First World War, the Dominion Police and Canadian naval intelligence conducted counter-espionage operations in the United States, against third parties and generally with the knowledge of US authorities, while the Canadian Corps developed the best intelligence service on the western front, which British and US armies adopted as a model. Between 1919 and 1939, assessments provided by British intelligence gave Canada material close in quality to anything possessed by the United States. Jensen rightly emphasizes how little use Ottawa made of it; Australia did better. He criticizes inter-war Canadian military intelligence for collecting material relevant to a war between the British empire and the United States, yet so did US intelligence. Jensen's discussion of Canadian involvement in the communication systems for Anglo-American intelligence between 1943 and 1950 misses some tricks, failing to explain how and why Canada received one of the world's best cryptographic systems, Rockex II, when Australia and New Zealand were left with an inferior (if still excellent) one, Typex Mark X. Jensen rarely outlines how any consumer used this deciphered material. Still, he explains how Canada developed an unusual system for external intelligence: without an espionage agency, but with a large signals intelligence service, always within a coalition, and paying the minimal price needed to remain a member. He defends this approach well. He suggests that Canadian intelligence has done well at its work and for its country, given the limits to its resources. The book can profitably be read by anyone concerned with intelligence, in Canada or elsewhere. DURING THE SECOND World War, Ireland (or the twenty-six counties that had achieved 'dominion status' in 1921) was the only part of the British empire that remained neutral. Still coping with the legacy of a short but sharp war of independence from the United Kingdom, which had been followed by a bitter civil war, neutrality was the only feasible choice for Eamon de Valera's republicanleaning government. Throwing Ireland's lot in with Britain would have put intolerable strains on the Irish political system and provided an irresistible opportunity for de Valera's diehard republican ex-colleagues in the Irish republican army to reinvigorate their intermittently violent challenge to the independent Irish state. But, as Michael Kennedy observes in this fascinating, detailed book, Ireland, 'though neutral, could not escape the global conflict'. Geography placed it 'in the frontline of the war in the Atlantic' (p. ix). Naturally, Ireland's neutrality was not at all welcome in Britain. The problems of British naval defence, so recently demonstrated during the German U-boat campaign of the First World War, had been a xxxi. 3: September 2009 major factor during the negotiations leading up to the Anglo-Irish treaty of December 1921, which had established the 'Irish Free State'. Winston Churchill, one of the negotiating team, had asserted that Britain could not leave the Western Approaches undefended in a future war and three British naval bases -the so-called 'Treaty Ports' -had been retained in the eventual agreement. In 1938, however, as part of a normalization of Anglo-Irish relations, the ports had been returned to Ireland. When war began in 1939, there was strong pressure from Britain for Ireland once again to allow the British navy use of Irish facilities. Churchill, in particular, was eloquently fierce on the matter. The lack of the ports, he declared, was 'a most heavy and grievous burden' (p. 117), and he repeatedly asserted that German submarines were able to resupply in the creeks and harbours of Ireland's west coast. Ireland's neutrality was undoubtedly a source of weakness for Britain's defence and there is a strong case to be made that fewer Allied ships, sailors, and servicemen would have been lost in the Battle of the Atlantic had Irish facilities been available, but, in pragmatic terms, a largely united, independent, and neutral Ireland was of more value to the Allied war effort than an inevitably divided participant Ireland would have been. In fact, Ireland's neutrality was very partial indeed, and had been recognized as such from the beginning. In August 1939, de Valera made it known to the German minister at Dublin that, even if neutral, it was 'inevitable for the Irish Government to show a certain consideration for Britain', and just after war had broken out he assured the Dominions secretary, Anthony Eden, that he 'wished to be as friendly as he could, and go as far as possible to assist Great Britain while maintaining the essentials of neutrality' (pp. 60-1). So it was to be, with, for example, close co-operation between Irish and British intelligence, the regular provision of valuable weather reports, the concession of overflying rights for Allied warplanes, and the timely repatriation of Allied servicemen who had landed in Ireland (in contrast to the detention of Axis personnel).

University of Calgary
The Coast Watching Service, established in 1938, played its part in Ireland's demonstration of partial neutrality. Ireland claimed (with some justification) that it constituted an early warning system of possible invasion (widely expected in the second half of 1940), which would immediately be passed on to Britain, and a means to monitor any Axis use of Ireland's west coast. In fact, the tales of German submarines covertly using Irish harbours were all wholly unfounded. The Germans' own carelessness in not developing a turf-burning U-boat meant that they had in any case no vessels able to exploit such supplies as might actually have been available. Kennedy argues that the success of the service reinforced Irish neutrality by helping to keep out the British whose own draft invasion plans for Ireland were always more likely to be implemented than those of the Germans. Kennedy concludes that the service, whose reports were transmitted to Britain through Ireland's small but efficient intelligence organization and the department of external affairs, 'were a crucial Irish weapon in the battle of information, propaganda, and xxxi. 3: September 2009 counterpropaganda that surrounded the defence of Irish neutrality and the secret [though extremely productive] British-Irish intelligence relationship' (p. 310).

Queen's University of Belfast
KEITH JEFFERY RICHARD WIGG. Churchill and Spain: The Survival of the Franco Regime, 1940-1945. Brighton and Portland, OR: Sussex Academic Press, 2008, paper.
'What you are proposing to do is little less than stirring up a revolution in Spain' (p. 181), Winston Churchill thundered at his foreign secretary and fellow Conservative, Anthony Eden, who wanted to put further pressure on Francisco Franco to step down. This was in the winter of 1944, and victory over Germany was on the horizon; victory over tyranny being a different matter. This was Churchill at the height of his towering prestige, showing the two Churchills inside his mind. One, and this is the image most prevalent in Western memories today, was the man who was right at the right (if terrible) times. The other, less remembered, was the inveterate imperialist, the reactionary, who, for example, during the Second World War would use Axis collaborators in Greece to combat Communists, and who later would topple democratic governments in Iran, or who, finally, in the case of semi-Fascist Spain, would impose upon his cabinet, and on his redoubtable ambassador at Madrid, Sir Samuel Hoare, a policy of shameful appeasement towards Franco. Richard Wigg has constructed a meticulously researched and carefully written book that shows how Churchill made possible the post-war survival of the Franco regime. Wigg has had access not only to several family archives but, more crucial, to previously inaccessible diplomatic documents. Even if we already knew the basic outline of the story, Wigg's discoveries are still astonishing. We knew, for example, that since the 1940s the British had been bribing Spanish generals to preserve Spain's precarious neutrality during the war; we were aware of the ineptitude and prejudices surrounding the monarchist cause, starting with the pretender to the throne, Don Juan (father of Spain's current king); and, finally, of Churchill's contempt for the opposition forces in Spain. Here, Wigg goes further and deeper, and convincingly proves that in the process of competing for business in Spain, British and US consciences were also 'bribed'; that Don Juan tried to reach an understanding with the Italians, the Germans, Franco (this back and forth), and the British without accepting, at least until it was far too late, the perspective of a democratic Spain; and finally, we did not know until now that against the advice of those, like Hoare, who knew better and had clear plans to bring Franco down, Churchill had imposed saving Franco as a lesser ill.
In Wigg's story, Hoare is the surprising hero. This is the same man whose xxxi. 3: September 2009 name was forever attached to the notorious Hoare-Laval Pact of 1935, that sought, and failed, to preserve Benito Mussolini's friendship in exchange for accepting his annexation of Abyssinia. Wigg describes how the politically disgraced Hoare not only did a tremendous job during his four and a half years  in Madrid, but also how the experience changed the man. Granted, basking in his success in Spain, Hoare still dreamed of becoming viceroy of India, but in Madrid he learned to hate tyranny and discovered that the future of England lay in collaborating with a united and democratic Europe. This meant that images and memories of the Second World War notwithstanding, in Spain Hoare the appeaser became Hoare the fighter, while the hero of the time, Churchill, practised appeasement. Wigg's book belongs to the realm of traditional political history, and because of this there are some important aspects missing in his analysis. Most crucially, while there is plenty of information on what Spain's political and economic elites had in mind, there is next to nothing on the rest of the population. This affects some of the assumptions of the book, such as the supposed weakness of Franco's social support. There is plenty of evidence, and published work, that show that Franco counted on two important factors to gather support, active or passive, among a wide segment of the Spanish population. One was the civil war itself, which, on the one hand, created a true pact of blood between him and his followers -particularly among junior and middle officers in the army -and, on the other, caused a widespread social rejection of violence that led people to accept the dictatorship as the only safeguard against a dreaded second round of the conflict.
The second main cause of support for the regime was more straightforward. Wigg mentions, but describes only cursorily, the dreadful social conditions in post-civil war Spain. A quiet famine killed hundreds of thousands of Spaniards, but the victims belonged mostly to two social groups: landless peasants and workers. Other groups, such as the landed peasantry, employers, and merchants, did well in the black market, or by paying starvation wages to their employees. These people, and not only the country's elites, profited handsomely from Franco's rule and 'peace', and they dreaded the return of 'chaos', and of 'red' unions and laws that in the past protected the poor. They knew that they had won their war. In a sense, Churchill, while planning the future of the empire and dreading Communist expansion, felt the same. garian support); resistance to the invaders from a 'Yugoslav Army in the Homeland' (mainly Serbian); resistance to this army from various Quisling/Fascist Croatian, Slovenian, and Serbian military or police forces and by Bosnian Muslim, Albanian, and Serb (ir)regular forces; and resistance to all of the above by Tito's Partisan Army, the Communists. The complexity of the interaction of these various sides was increased by the tendency of prominent figures in the various groups to change allegiances, and of the major powers to switch support over the four years from 1941 to 1945. Almost until the end of socialist Yugoslavia in 1991, these complexities were obscured by a standard historiography that saw the victorious Communists as uniquely virtuous, unlike the various nationalist/Fascist forces that opposed them, and commemorated the 'victims of war and fascism' without being overly clear about exactly which forces had murdered exactly which victims, while not commemorating the victims of the Partisans at all. Exceptions were found largely in the emigre literatures, themselves often as tendentious as the state-sponsored ones, but seeing virtue, separately, in the several nationalist causes, almost invariably that of the group to which an author belonged. With the creation of the newly independent states, much of the formerly denigrated emigre literature has become valorized in the several nation(alist) states, again in accordance with the support the work gives to the cause of that nation.
Stevan K. Pavlowitch performs a singular service in sorting through the complications of the Second World War in Yugoslavia, in a work that extended over thirty-five years  and is based on unpublished documents, interviews, and correspondence as well as published works in (the former) Serbo-Croatian, English, French, German, and Italian. It is one of the virtues of the book that none of the actors is seen as exceptionally virtuous. Tito's forces won, in part because they had the support of the victorious allied powers, but more because they pursued a clear set of goals: to recreate Yugoslavia and to build socialism. The other forces seem, in Pavlowitch's analysis, to have been caught up in what he calls 'Hitler's new disorder' in the Balkans, a region where 'the conquerors had destroyed the state and existing authority [and] set its components against each other, yet they did not have sufficient strength and time to build an alternative system ... The outcome was near-anarchy and an ideal situation for the propagation of a revolutionary war' (pp. 272-3).
Pavlowitch does an excellent job of showing the increasing weakness of the Chetnik and Ustasha forces as the war progressed, and presents the clearest analyses that this reviewer has seen of the complicated interactions of the various political and military forces engaged in the various parts of the then once-andfuture (but now deceased) Yugoslavia. However, this is not a book for readers not already reasonably well versed in the history of the founding of Yugoslavia and the brief, troubled life of the first Yugoslavia. Pavlowitch starts the book on 26 August 1939, with the statement that on that date 'the Yugoslav regency started a process xxxi. 3: September 2009 of restructuring the state' (p. 1). Fair enough for those who already know about the existence of that regency and why the state needed to be restructured, but likely to be tough going for the uninitiated. The book does have a useful list of dramatis personae, and a chronology of events from 1939 through 1945. Still, it seems best suited for readers already familiar with works such as John Lampe's Yugoslavia as History (1996), Aleksa Djilas's The Contested Country (19991), or Milovan Djilas's memoir of the period, Wartime (1977). This is detailed, fine-grained history, by an expert and for experts.
The high level of expertise, however, makes it an indispensable sourcebook for anyone seriously interested in the history of the Balkans during the period. With this book, Pavlowitch makes clear much of what, in their different ways, both the standardized historiography of socialist Yugoslavia and those of the various nationalist intellectual circles had obscured. This is a major achievement.  (5); 2001-7 (6). In stage 1, the United States intervened for the usual great-power reasons: resources (oil), military advantage, and its supposed desire for others to emulate its democxxxi. 3: September 2009 racy, though that democracy existed only for white people at the time; moreover, the well-established US record of overthrowing or otherwise destabilizing democracies also calls this line of thought into question. In stage 2, 'Washington alternated between alliance, proxy, and unilateral imperialism to preserve its hegemonic and security interests' (p. 89); in stage 3, the United States used balance-ofpower diplomacy and arms sales to maintain its status; the country 'endured repeated insults' (p. 154) led by the Organization of Petroleum Exporting Countries and revolutionary Iran during stage 4; through its increased militarization and unilateralism during stage 5, the United States 'resembled imperial powers of the past' (p. 182). Finally, in the last stage under George W. Bush, the United States engaged in a policy of unilateral militarism: 'Pax Americana proved fleeting in Iraq, however, as the country quickly devolved into dystopia' (p. 242). Despite the failure in Iraq, O'Reilly projects that 'peaks and valleys' will continue to characterize US diplomacy in the region 'without the empire disintegrating' (p. 293).
To say the work is thoroughly researched would be an understatement, as the footnotes are an exercise in overkill. One chapter, for example, concludes with thirty-five pages of single-spaced notes, more pages than he devotes to most other chapters of the book. O'Reilly consults primary materials for the years in which they were available, along with memoirs, secondary, and Internet sources, especially for the more recent periods.
The prose is clear, blending snippets of trenchant analysis with a smattering of cliches. We learn that the Persian Gulf reposes in a 'remote part of the world' (p. xiv), but presumably not to the people who live there. The 'Soviet menace' (p. 56) rears its ugly head, compelling the United States to join in the 'Great Game' (p. 56) of imperialism. Other terms and tropes -national interests, national security, and so on -are too often reified rather than interrogated. It is unlikely that all of the residents of the region would agree that Henry Kissinger 'dazzled the Middle East with his diplomatic wizardry' (p. 155).
The book offers a good starting point for a comprehensive assessment of US foreign policy towards the Gulf region, but most of it will be familiar to specialists. Political scientists and their students may appreciate the modelling of contingent imperialism more than historians, though the framing of the years and their justification are not without interest.
O'Reilly's ultimate argument, understated throughout the work, is also underwhelming. He concludes that the US 'imperium's achievements as well as failures qualify as ordinary by imperial standards. As such, the US empire in the Persian Gulf remains unexceptional [his emphasis] -whether or not Americans acknowledge its existence' (p. 294). One might just as easily suggest that the tendency to elide rather than acknowledge empire is one of arguably many aspects that make the American empire more distinctive than O'Reilly believes that it is. The fine English translation, by M. B. DeBevoise, has already attracted attention and some extravagant praise, including a cover blurb describing the book 'as close to a definitive treatment as one can expect' and comparing the author to Thucydides! There is, in fact, much to recommend, especially the two final chapters on 'The Battle of France' and 'France's Battle', which offer some important insights into what the events meant for the country where the battle was fought. There are, however, a number of issues of both evidence and interpretation that knowledgeable military historians will question.

University of Akron
Wieviorka begins by suggesting that someone, somewhere, believes in a myth about Normandy that includes the idea that, after D-Day, all that remained was 'the execution of a series of secondary missions' (p. 1). The myth apparently extends to a number of other flawed assumptions that have led Wieviorka to 'rediscover' the war. The introduction concludes with the statement that 'by acknowledging imperfections and the vagaries of chance we are able to gauge the true price of victory and to recognize the young British, American, and Canadian soldiers who dashed forward onto the beaches of Normandy ... not as demigods but as human beings' (p. 11). What all this leads up to is a series of interesting but uneven chapters that illustrate many of the problems encountered by the Allies in the preparation for and accomplishment of the liberation of Normandy.
The first third of the book offers a fairly straightforward review of the pre-Overlord strategic debate and the military preparations for the invasion. Readers who are not familiar with the British and US official histories, especially the multivolume British series on grand strategy, will appreciate the survey and specialists should read it for nuggets of new information. The account of Basil Liddell Hart's interrogation over his apparent knowledge of parts of the Overlord plan is one such example.
The three chapters on D-Day and the bloody battles of June and July lead to a discussion of the 'psychoneuroses' experienced by Allied soldiers in Normandy. Here, as elsewhere in the book, Wieviorka has made use of this reviewer's writings, including Copp and Bill McAndrew's Battle Exhaustion (1990;rev. ante, xxxi. 3: September 2009 68o The International History Review xiv [1992], 602) so this chapter was read with considerable interest. Wieviorka introduces his analysis by suggesting that the attritional battles in the hedgerows and ridge lines of Normandy led to 'a severe crisis ... whose repercussions for the morale of the troops were to be both profound and long lasting ' (p. 254). What exactly does this mean? The rate of battle exhaustion, or combat fatigue, accounted for one in five non-fatal casualties in July but declined rapidly after the breakout. Wieviorka sees this crisis as revealing 'a structural defeat in the composition of the Anglo-American forces. Poorly selected ... the men who fought on the ground took little pride in the units in which they served' (p. 289).
Shell shock, battle exhaustion, combat stress reaction, and post-traumatic stress disorder are all manifestations of a mental crisis that impacts a proportion of individuals exposed to more stress than they can cope with. There is no typical aetiology, and breakdowns occur among the best and the brightest as frequently as among the uneducated of poor physique. Wieviorka relies on his dubious analysis of cause and effect to contrast the Allied infantry, 'the weakest element in Allied forces ' (p. 269), with the men of the French 2nd Armoured Division who had the fewest psychiatric casualties in General George S. Patton's 3rd Army because, he argues, they were 'primarily volunteers who enlisted in the firm belief that the survival of their nation was at stake' (p. 270). Others might suggest that the division, which stood by waiting to stage a triumphal entry into Paris while Canadian, US, and Polish soldiers fought to close the Falaise Gap, was simply untested in the kind of combat that led to large casualties.
The final chapters explore the history of the difficult relationship between Charles de Gaulle and the Anglo-American leadership, as well as the relationships between the Normands and their liberators. As might be expected, Wieviorka argues that the Allies mishandled relations with de Gaulle and his chapter documents 'the reversal in the balance of power between the two sides' (p. 319).
This interesting and provocative book offers new insights and information on the Normandy campaign. Few other authors have attempted such a wide-ranging survey of strategic, diplomatic, operational, tactical, and social history, so it is not surprising that there are occasions when Wieviorka's reach exceeds his grasp.  (2001), was an ethno-history of the war in Micronesia, Memories of War focuses on the 'construction' of cultural memory. The early chapters look at Micronesian visions of history and knowledge. Whereas many Western cultures view history in linear terms, with a steady progression from the past through the present to the future, Micronesian cultures are inclined to reverse the order and/or to view the unfolding of events in a circularrather than a linear -fashion. Moreover, significant elements of Micronesian historical knowledge are deemed sacred and the number of those who know, convey, and receive the knowledge is limited accordingly. Thus, the structure of historical reconstruction is different from that embraced by many readers. Furthermore, cultural memory consists of much more than the aggregate of individual wartime experiences of islanders living in such islands or island clusters as Chuuk, Korsrae, Pohnpei, Yap, or the Marshalls. Cultural memory locates those experiences within a more subtle and complex set of values and cultural codes, codes that need to be deciphered in order to enjoy their full meaning.

Wilfrid Laurier University
Typhoon of War introduced us to a powerful metaphor: that the Pacific War descended on the hapless islanders like some vast, violent, unpredictable, and inexplicable storm over which they had no control. The islanders were acquainted with war through legends, stories, and songs. They knew of chiefly competitions for power and about the shifting fortunes of the common folk, but absolutely nothing prepared them for the unimaginable scale and violence of insular warfare. It should come as no surprise, therefore, that they informed the authors on many occasions that the Pacific War was not the islanders' war: they were, for the most part, bystanders. The war was mobile, they were immobile, and it highlighted their microscopic insignificance and impotence.
The islands of Micronesia became a Japanese mandate at the end of the First World War. The islanders came to know the Imperial Japanese Navy (IJN), and developed a certain affection for their Japanese masters over two decades. Indeed, some of the elders look back on this colonial period as a golden age. But as the Second World War drew near (and there is an intriguing sidebar discussion as to when the war actually 'began' in the eyes of the islanders), the IJN was increasingly replaced by Japanese army units. Life became harsh and demanding as food became scarce, land was confiscated, and the islanders were recruited for forced labour battalions to fortify the islands.
Many of the Micronesian recollections of this early period of hostilities focus on the intense hardships suffered by the islanders and the acute sense of loss associated with the loss of land and food, two elements deeply charged with symbolic worth and central to the Micronesian identity. Then there was the terrifying xxxi. 3: September 2009 experience of unparalleled violence, the realization that Japanese power was ebbing away and the equally compelling realization that the Americans, with their warships and bombers, were the new masters of power and wealth.
Much of the book is given over to transcripts of interviews about the wartime experience. These interviews are skilfully buttressed by cultural analyses. Falgout, Poyer, and Carucci have done us a great service by rescuing the islanders from a historical no man's land. While so much of what happened to the Micronesians was beyond their comprehension, they did realize what a societal watershed the war constituted. They have embedded their experiences in an array of narrative devices that are, for the most part, in the public domain rather than in the exclusive realm ol secret knowledge. Perhaps it is fitting that the last words should come from a Yapese interlocutor who captured the wartime experience in a few poetic lines: 'A great shock befell us ... / it blew in from the clear blue sky, / spread to all sides / and turned upon us. / We saw tragedy befall us' (p. 231). HIROSHI KIMURA IS the doyen of Japanese historians on Russo-Japanese relations over the Kuril Islands. He has taught and researched the subject for forty years. He produced this survey of Russo-Japanese relations in Japanese in 1993 and a revised and updated edition in 2005. This is the English translation of the latter volume, by Mark Ealey, which deserves special commendation. It includes as an appendix forty-two documents of the Joint Compendium on the History of the Territorial Issue between Japan and Russia, accepted by both governments as a reference point for negotiations. The Kuriles became a critical issue between the two countries with the occupation of the four islands -Etorofu, Kunashiri, Shikotan, and Habomai -by the Soviet armies in August-September 1945. The Japanese government has ever since been seeking their return. The first significant attempt was made in 1956 during talks in London when the Soviet Union offered to return two of the islands closest to Japanese territory. Japan turned down this proposal, being only satisfied with the return of the whole four-island group. Although diplomatic relations were restored at this juncture, no peace treaty was signed, and for three decades thereafter, little advance was made in untying the contorted Kurillian knot. An anti-Soviet mood intensified among the Japanese people, so much so that Japan introduced in 1981 a Northern Territories Day, on 7 February, when citizens' groups around the country could hold special rallies every year 'until the four xxxi. 3: September 2009 islands are returned'. This appeal to public opinion antagonized the Soviet gerontocracy of Yuri Andropov and Konstantin Chernenko and led to no improvements.

Canadian Maritime Forces
It was only the fresh liberal approach of Mikhail Gorbachev, first as secretarygeneral and then Soviet president, and Boris Yeltsin, president of the Russian Federation, during their visits to Tokyo that gave Japan rising expectations. These leaders had an improved perception of Japan and its usefulness. They wanted to encourage good relations with Japan, which was then experiencing an economic boom, and were concerned about the economic state of Soviet territories in the east, where Japanese assistance could be invaluable. The Japanese thought they were making headway with Yeltsin's drafts, only to be frustrated by domestic factors in Russia. Since then, the situation has not developed favourably under what many Japanese regard as the Stalinist approach of Vladimir Putin.
Kimura has succeeded in giving a lucid account of a complicated and deeply disputed topic in a relatively short book. He assesses patiently the ingenious examples of special pleading on both sides of the argument, and analyses the views of scholars. Although it is clearly his view that Japan has been ill treated, he devotes due space to the various Russian views. This is an important work of reference; and the documentary appendix containing English-language versions of the critical exchanges between the Japanese and Russian governments, which runs to fifty-three pages, is an important tool for the greater understanding of this controversial problem. There is no bibliography.
Kimura makes no predictions about the issue being solved, but makes the sobering final comment: 'Regaining something lost among the spoils of war requires not only an incredible degree of commitment and inexhaustible patience but also a great deal of sacrifice. The Northern Territories problem serves to remind the people ofjapan of this cold fact' (p. 161). mind about the Palestinians' sincerity regarding the peace process, and 1Q48: A History of the First Arab-Israeli War reflects that change of heart. More than anything, however, this book is a summation of Morris's own work on the Palestinian issue, rather than on the Arab-Israeli war. The present book goes beyond his 1987 work, but when he touches on the war itself, he confines himself to a chronology of events. We have a lot of'what' and little or no 'why' and 'how'. For example, when Morris describes, in great detail, the northward march of the Egyptian expeditionary force from Rafah to Isdud, he tells us that two Israeli brigades, the 5th and the 12th, faced the Egyptian force (pp. 234-5). But where were those brigades? Where was the Israeli line of defence? Why did they not confront the Egyptian invaders? From other sources, we know it was because they were still in civil war mode, focused on sporadic internal conflicts. The 600 or so combatants of the 12th brigade did not exist as an operational unit because they were dispersed among more than thirty settlements in the Negev, mostly beyond the fighting area.
Why did the Egyptian troops stop in Isdud, on the Arab side of the border designated for the Israeli and Arab states, and not continue towards Tel Aviv? Because that was their original plan, and according to the intelligence received by the commander of the Egyptian Expeditionary Force, the Israeli settlements across the border were well fortified and presented considerable risk to his troops, whose flank would be exposed to Israeli attacks.
On a more conceptual level, the book's other serious flaw is Morris's historiographical approach. In 1988, he published a manifesto declaring the emergence of a new brand of historians who were reinterpreting the 1948 War: the 'New Historians'. In this latest book, Morris recycles a basic premise that dominated the writing of the New Historians -as well as that of the 'Old Historians' -that the course of this war was decided to a great extent by Israel: that the Israeli forces managed to overcome their enemies against all odds, and even their defeats ultimately turned into successes. The Arabs, in fact, played a relatively passive role. A conspicuous example of this is the notion that Israel won a dramatic victory over its enemies in 1948, and in battles where Israeli forces were defeated by their opponents, even those defeats contributed to the eventual Israeli military success.
In fact, Morris's approach to the war is the same as that of the Old Historians. This is how Morris relates to the blows and setbacks sustained by the Israel Defense Forces (IDF). On the night of 2-3 June 1948, the Israeli 5th brigade launched an attack on Egyptian forces in the Isdud area, in order to destroy them. However, the Israeli counter-attack was broken by Egyptian troops, and the Israelis had to retreat, suffering a large number of casualties. This severe blow was actually a success, AN AMBITIOUS ATTEMPT to describe and analyse the history of the US Army's combat ground forces between the 1950s and 1990s, this book is both useful and unsettling. As an introduction to the general history of the US Army's role in the North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO) ground forces for the defence of Western Europe, the book is well done. As an explanation of why the army changed its divisional organization three times in twenty-five years, the book is not quite so satisfying. To give Ingo Trauschweizer his due, he understands the key issues as the senior generals defined them within the NATO context. The enemy was the Soviet forces stationed in East Germany, supplemented by their Warsaw Pact allies. This force would likely strike first in a crisis with local surprise and with a superior number of divisions. Moreover, the Seventh US Army and its two supporting Bundesheer corps were positioned well south of the likely Soviet area of operations, the north German plain. The availability of tactical nuclear weapons by the late 1950s simply added a degree of complexity to NATO war-planning.
The book follows the interplay of weapons modernization (especially tanks and self-propelled artillery), divisional organization, and operational doctrine through xxxi. 3: September 2009 three major combat arms eras; first, the mass conventional armies period of the 1952 Lisbon Agreement and the strategy of MC 14/1; second, the 'New Look' emphasis on tactical nuclear weapons and the development of the 'pentomic division' concept, happily never really adopted; and third, the 'Flexible Response' era and the creation of the Reorganization Objective Army Division (ROAD) in the 1960s and still the operative approach for task-organizing army field forces. Trauschweizer's approach is inclusive and encyclopaedic. He also wisely extends his history to cover the 'Active Defense' and AirLand Battle variants of the army's plans for fighting the Soviets in Germany without using nuclear weapons -as long as possible. He argues that AirLand Battle (published as doctrine in the 1982 version of FM 100-5 Operations) finally aligned army operational capabilities with NATO strategy and strengthened the deterrent effect of the Seventh Army.
The book is less satisfying in what it does not address or minimizes as influences on army doctrine. Trauschweizer certainly believes in comprehensive causation. If a person or event might influence the army, he or it appears somewhere. The difficulty is that Trauschweizer seldom decides just how important an event might be. Quoting secondary sources does not solve the problem. One exception, to be sure, is the Yom Kippur War (1973) and the growing influence of the US Army Training and Doctrine Command (TRADOC) under Generals William DePuy and Donn Starry. Had Trauschweizer concentrated more tightly on the NATO Military Committee, Supreme Allied Commander Europe (SACEUR), and Commanding General, US Army Europe (CG USAREUR), the issues would have been more focused, included more attention to Allied influence, and dealt more effectively with the role of US Air Force tactical air doctrine and forces. Another lost opportunity is Trauschweizer's bloodless portrayal of the US Army's senior generals and their personal and organizational rivalries. Although he lists an impressive array of private papers and oral memoirs held by the US Army Military History Institute, the text and notes stress official statements, journal articles, and secondary sources. The exception is chapter 6, 'The Cold War Army', which includes personal testimony by Generals DePuy, Starry, and Andrew J. Goodpaster on the doctrinal battles of the 1970s. Perhaps because Trauschweizer is a polite and cautious German, he does not probe the deep antagonisms between, say, Matthew B. Ridgway and Maxwell D. Taylor nor the battles between the 'airborne-airmobility mafia', rallied by Lt. Gen. James Gavin, and Eurocentric 'armour' generals represented by Creighton Abrams and Clyde D. Eddleman, who is credited with inventing the ROAD division.
Within Trauschweizer's definition of his project, the book is a modest success. Perhaps Trauschweizer will pursue his subject with more penetrating, disaggregated case studies. THESE COLLECTIONS REFLECT two projects on which historians of the Algerian war in France are currently engaged and two missions of the academic (scientific in French jargon) historian. La France en guerre, ig §4~ig62 is a collection of essays, edited by Raphaelle Branche and Sylvie Thenault, based on innovative research in departmental archives and the local press that examines the Algerian war in France outside of Paris. L'Algerie depassionnee, by Eric Savarese, addresses the role historians can and should play in the design and presentation of the commemorative sites that 'identity communities' born of the war seek to construct in contemporary France. Historical narratives of France during the Algerian war generally separate the war from the experience of metropolitan France, especially of the provinces, where it appears as an aside to the 'thirty glorious' years of post-war economic development or as the cause of events in Algiers and Paris that led to creation of the Fifth Republic. Contributors to La France en guerre show that the experience of the war in fact permeated France in the late 1950s and early 1960s, and demand a rethinking of the existing historical narratives.

University of Mew
As the title suggests, L'Algerie depassionnee has a different ambition. It engages historians in the project of providing a context to the collective memories of aggrieved groups. If La France en guerre is a dialogue of historians with other historians, L'Algerie depassionnee involves historians in confrontations with identity groups whose claim to tell their story the way they want to tell it in the public sphere elicits historians' efforts to open it up to outsiders, to make it history.
La France en guerre reproduces the cover of the Paris Match that carried inside an article on the outbreak of the Algerian war in November 1954, but featured a photo of Gina LoUobrigida, a reminder that when the war began there were other things on the minds of the French in the Hexagon. Taken together, the articles in La France en guerre suggest that the war took root in France in 1957, when the exceptional powers approved for Algeria in 1956 were brought back home to mainland France. The nature of social groups that receded and emerged in the post-1945 transformation of France was brought about during the Algerian war. The war accelerated the decline of rural smallholders as well as the modernization of provincial France; if elements of the old right in the countryside sustained themselves by support of the war, the growth of provincial universities, like that in Caen, brought to the fore a new generation of scholars whose identity developed in contesting the war.
Work on opposition to the war in France has focused on intellectuals in Paris  'une illusion (1995), it has become fashionable to denigrate the anti-fascism of French Communists during this era as an effort to relive the glory days of the Resistance. But these studies remind us why the right-wing populist followers of Pierre Poujade, who melded support for small farms and businesses and for French Algeria, with support for the terrorist Organisation de l'Armee Secrete (OAS), diehard partisans of French Algeria, would elicit anti-fascist mobilization on the left. The studies in La France en guerre reveal that there was very little contact between Algerians and Euro-French in France who opposed the war. However, in line with the argument of the book that the war was not external to metropolitan France, the FLN is not presented as an organization of individuals lacking roots among Algerians living and working in France. Furthermore, studies of the internment camps established by the French to hold Algerians suspected of nationalist activities in France reveal the authority that the FLN exercised among detainees, rendering them resistant to French efforts to counter FLN control.
We see traces in the collection of the way the memory of the Second World War figured in the Algerian war. As one contributor notes, resisters themselves could evoke their experience to support or oppose the war in Algeria, but were often hesitant to do so. However, non-resisters and those too young to have resisted felt more confident evoking the Resistance in articulating their opposition to the war. While it was a prefect in the Haute-Marne who had been a prisoner at Buchenwald who drew on this experience to constitute an association to support soldiers and their families, critics of the internment camps in France made their point by asking about the 'concentration camps' in their midst. Suggesting that the French could do in Algeria what the Germans had done was the first step towards confrontation with the extent of French collaboration during the Second World War that would come a decade later. After 1962, the repressed memory in French political discourse would increasingly be of colonialism. Several authors note that, despite the extensive dissemination of accounts of the French use of torture during the war, torture was not a central element of anti-war discourse; only in the memory of the war would it come to the fore.
L'Algerie depassionnee had its origins in the decision by the city of Perpignan in 2006 to finance a centre dedicated to the memory of the French presence in Algeria and a wall with the names of French who had died in Algeria, but whose bodies had not been recovered; this came a year after the French parliament passed a bill that required teaching the positive elements of French colonialism. These efforts were the work of a strong community oipied noir origin, and came in the context of the Algerian president Abdelaziz Bouteflika's demand in 2001 that the French apologize for the atrocities they had committed in Algeria. These contesting demands by particular groups rooted in memory traditions to spur action were the backdrop to the efforts of French president Jacques Chirac, himself a veteran of the Algerian war, to negotiate a French-Algerian accord, often presented as parallel to the accord signed in 1963 by France and Germany, countries with a long history of conflict and recriminations.
Savarese and a number of other respected historians of France and Algeria ask what historians can do to open up memory traditions of identity groups like the pieds noirs when these are presented to the public. They begin by contending that groups and their memories not be examined and presented in isolation, but in the context of the experience of the diversity of groups in Algeria (and in France). Addressing the wall for the French in Algeria whose bodies had not been recovered, the historians argued that the name of Maurice Audin, the French Algerian Communist opponent of the war who had been tortured and murdered by the French paratroopers, be included. Pied noir accounts of relations between individuals of European and North African origin in Algeria generally ignore the radically different (and unequal) legal and social situations of the groups, and need to be placed in this context. All identity groups focus on certain events at the expense of others. Gilbert Meynier pairs the killing of Jews by Muslims in Constantine in 1934, an important event in the memory tradition of Algerian Jews, with the rarely discussed killing of Muslims by Jews in Constantine in the context of the war in 1956; one event does not excuse the other, but taken together they open up the history of relations between groups in Algeria and how they are remembered.
From here, historians move to examination of the terminology used in memory accounts and the way this can become the site of telling misrepresentations. For instance, in accounts with little place for indigenous populations, the pieds noirs presented themselves as pioneers, exploring and settling a new land. When the pieds noirs were forced to leave for France when Algeria won its independence, French state television used reference to the pieds noirs as pioneers to argue that they would bring this pioneer spirit with them to forward the modernization of France. But, the historians continue, this idea of the Europeans in Algeria as large farmers, pioneering or otherwise, was in turn the source of an image of the pieds noirs as exploitative landlords, when, in fact, four-fifths of the pieds noirs lived in urban settlements along the Mediterranean, largely isolated from the majority of indigenous Algerians, who lived in rural areas. Historians in turn dealt with the issue of chronology, properly contesting the image pieds noirs developed of the Third Republic as a long period of harmonious co-operation between the The historians in UAlgerie depassionnee address memory traditions that developed among groups after their arrival in France, with the goal not so much of showing they are incorrect -the historians' traditional role -but of suggesting that academic history can provide walkways between these communities' memories. Historians could also provide the basis for public presentations of the past that would avoid the impasses of current projects promoted by identity groups in France for museums and monuments that tell their story and commemorate their victims to the exclusion of others. However, on a number of occasions, these historians recognize the alternative to the walkway and the backdrop they see history providing in the presentation of memories, and applaud the work of novelists like Jules Roy and Assia Djebar, whose works have qualities of the hybrid of memory and history. How, they implicitly ask, can physical sites come to embody some of these qualities? Pp. x, 252. £50.00.

University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill
As ITS DOUBLE title suggests, this book has two foci. The first is put forward with passion, though not always with clarity. The Bandung conference, Kweku Ampiah tells us, was, in one sense, 'an epiphany, one that brought hope to all those who craved independence and freedom from domination' (p. 1). It also 'exemplified the highest point of the indignation among the Asian countries against the injustices of the international political system as designed at Yalta, and the dangers that were posed by the bi-polar structure that emanated from it' (p. 2). An opening chapter describes neutralism as a political force in Asia in the mid-1950s. It includes some account of the conference itself, but it is not presented in substantial detail. The larger part of the book is given to three chapters on the reactions of two powers that did not attend the conference, Britain and the United States, and one that did, Japan. It is always too easy blame an author for not writing a book other than the one he has written, and it would no doubt be difficult to cover the policies of even the larger powers involved. But the structure Ampiah has adopted seems a little perverse. He admits that the participants differed among themselves, but he does not seem anxious to suggest that they had political objectives other than the idealism and indignation that he has invoked. The Indonesians, for example, were at the time widely thought to be pursuing foreign success in the face of domestic failure, and there is some evidence that Jawaharlal Nehru was doubtful about holding the conference and yielded only reluctantly to Ali Sastroamidjojo's persuasion. Nor is much said, indeed, of the policies that Nehru was pursuing vis-a-vis the People's Republic of China (PRC), the conference being part of an attempt to create an environment that would make it more difficult for that power to deviate from the principles of co-existence it had accepted at the time of the Tibet treaty of 1954. Ampiah joins almost all commentators in asserting that Zhou Enlai put on a masterful performance. But it should be placed in the context of the foreign policy the PRC was pursuing from 1952-3 to 1957, designed to break the line of US power and alliances, as Peter Van Ness has put it.
The policies of the 'reacting' powers are presented in more detail. The most novel chapter is perhaps that on the Japanese, where Ampiah has built on his earlier research. While they put their priority on economic development and cooperation in the South-East Asian region, their policy, he argues, had its political aspect: it marked an attempt to take a stance somewhat independent of the United States, though the parliamentary opposition wanted it to go further. The chapters on the United States and the United Kingdom add rather less. The latter uses some of the same material as I used in article on the conference published in 1992, but Ampiah puts his main emphasis on the colonial office's African concerns.
At times, it seems worth persisting with Ampiah's impenetrable prose. But this is not the book that the conference deserves, nor even perhaps that Ampiah, more effectively edited, might himself have produced. Too often one's confidence is undermined by errors that could easily have been avoided. They are too numerous to list, but have to be sampled. The British ambassador in Jakarta becomes a high commissioner; Sir Godfrey Huggins of the Central African Federation becomes Higgins; Sir Anthony Eden becomes prime minister in January 1955 instead of April; and a figure called Gorell Barnes becomes Secretary of State for the Colonies, though Alan Lennox Boyd seems to have the job, too. Ampiah finds that, 'rather surprisingly' (p. 23), North Vietnam was one of the states under SEATO protection. It would indeed have been surprising. Orthographical errors abound. Even the town in which the publisher lives appears as Foshestone (p. 59).
Pointing to such errors is sometimes seen as nit-picking, but they should not frequent a scholarly work. There is at least one other occasion when interpretation is quite awry. Britain's concern over 'controversial claims for extensions of sovereignty' is explained (p. 124) in terms of its opposition to the creation of independent states. But what the British had in mind was claims such as Indonesia's to West New Guinea.
Ampiah endeavours in his conclusion to put Bandung in the context of the history of the Non-Aligned Movement. It has, of course, been evoked on many other occasions, particularly in the development of regionalism. It is the more regrettable that the present work, however well meaning, is not more reliable. Having presided over an event in which the host country's army and security forces massacred at least two hundred peacefully protesting students ten days before the games began, in which a mass boycott of African nations was averted at the last minute over the readmission of South Africa, and in which the most widely reported event was the Black Power salute given by two African-American athletes on the medal dais on day four of competition, Brundage was forced to concede that his 'mission to separate politics from sport' had failed. 'With Brundage gone, no one picked up the mantle of that mission' (p. 162). Clearly a matter of regret, the 1968 games, in this account, mark the end of the games as an international festival and the beginning of one in which politics came to dominate. The circumstances in which Mexico City was surprisingly awarded the games in 1963, against rival bids from Lyon, Detroit, and Buenos Aires, and the rapidly escalating confrontational nature of domestic and international politics over the following five years, certainly deserve consideration, as do the games themselves as a mass global event towards the end of a tumultuous 1968. Mexico's Institutional Revolutionary Party (PRI)-led government's determination to claim a place on the world stage as a modern, stable society based on the 'Mexican miracle' (gross national product increasing at 6 per cent per year, 1940-70) and the enchantments of a unique culture with both classical and contemporary expression, lies at the heart of the story. Like all other Olympic host nations, the Mexican administration was determined to produce a successful event, acutely aware of the high stakes of failure ante los ojos del mundo (before the eyes of the world). What was unique to Mexico in 1968 was not this ambition, or the mixture of politics and sport, but rather the particular juncture of issues and interests. A cold war being fought out in hot places, notably Vietnam, combined with radicalized civil rights and studentled protest in much of the West, and the ascendancy of a 'non-aligned' movement made 1968 international venues places of high volatility. The major controversies are described by Witherspoon rather than explained. While the powers and ideologies are different, the key feature of the Olympic Games as an event defined by the contradictory interdependence of national and international goals and pressures -the argument made by Barbara Keys's impressive Globalizing Sport: National Rivalry and International Community in the lg^os (2006; rev. ante, xxx [2008], 167) -could have been extended and tested for the 1960s.

University of Auckland
Here, the story is limited by a perspective that sets its subject in too isolated a xxxi. 3: September 2009 frame. Issues and sources deserved more probing (for example, US state department records). The different ways in which 'the international community' was constituted and acted in the sequence of events from 1963 to 1968 would have made the argument more convincing. Hardly a monolithic entity, its decisions were always the result of sharp struggles for power between highly polarized blocs and sharply divergent interests, nowhere more so than in the IOC itself. There is an unresolved quality in the final chapter where it is suggested the games were a success, in the short term at least. The hideous events of 2 October, described in chapter 4, when white-gloved security forces of the Olimpia Battalion, together with army forces, brutally killed protesting students and residents in Plaza de las Tres Culturas, Tlateloco, imprisoning and torturing others; and chapter 3's discussion of Tommy Smith's and John Carlos's black-gloved fists raised as the US anthem played (and the high cost paid by the athletes for the rest of their lives) slip out of view. If they did so, or were made to do so, for and by powerful contemporaries, then that deserves more explanation. That it took a further twenty-six years for all South African athletes to represent a non-apartheid country, that the former Mexican president, Luis Echeverria, has not been prosecuted for orchestrating the massacre, that Tlateloco remains a deep scar in contemporary Mexico, and that it took around another quarter-century for a non-PRI candidate to win the Mexican presidency leap from the end pages as unfinished arcs. Quite unlike the famous long jump of Bob Beamon, which stood in the record book for decades, wonderfully discarding any fears that high altitude would threaten athletic performance. IN HIS NEW book, Alastair Iain Johnston reaches beyond his path-breaking 1995 monograph and later writings on China's international socialization to inquire into why and how China has become socialized. He is also interested in whether that socialization represents simply an instrumental, temporary phenomenon or a longterm, meaningful internalization of international norms. His ambit has therefore narrowed and deepened, so that, in the effort to test 'how', he focuses on the individuals and small Chinese government groups within specific international armscontrol institutions. His empirical aim is to test whether material realism or socialization micro-processes best account for the changes in China's behaviour in these arms-control institutions. These micro-processes, he suggests, also help determine which type of socialization is occurring. His theoretical goal is to use the China case as a general test of material realism, since he argues that China is an easy case xxxi. 3: September 2009 for structural realism but a hard case for non-Realpolitik socialization. If the latter proves to be the reason for China's changing behaviour, it automatically discounts the former. This is because a state's internalization of pro-social values is the hallmark of its socialization, while behaviour motivated by calculation of material costs and benefits, that is, material realism, is at the opposite end of the theoretical spectrum. These, of course, are critical questions. Given China's increasing power, and its growing willingness, as observed during the Olympics torch relay in 2008 and the recent Doha round negotiations, to wield that power, not only China scholars but also the rest of the world would like to know whether China's foreign policy is still motivated by realist thinking, as it was in Mao Zedong's time, or whether it has fundamentally changed, so that in the future it will continue to co-operate with the international community, however powerful it becomes.
Johnston has set himself a prodigious, if narrowly focused, task. Having addressed similar questions in my own work, 1 I am impressed by his determination to resolve this problem. He bases his argument on social-identity theory and 'perceived identity differences ' (p. 199). He chooses this theory partly because it allows him to control for factors exogenous to the international institutional environment, such as domestic policies and interests. According to this theory, the more 'out-group' individuals become distant from the 'in-group', the more they react in an extreme way, unless constrained by the social environment. Transposing this theory to the individual representatives of the state, international institutions become the social environment and government officials and groups, rather than the state itself, become the individual agents of interest as units of analysis.
Three micro-processes that encourage socialization are used to test China's behaviour within international institutions. The first is mimicking the behaviour of the in-group, which can be the result of survival under uncertainty, but which can also be a behavioural outcome of persuasion and influence. The second is social influence, where a novice is rewarded or shamed by the in-group. While this influence may not change actors' preferences, it will link interests in ways different from the past, by, for instance, linking preferences in the security field to preferences in social status. The third is persuasion, the process whereby the actor internalizes the norm, without overt material or mental coercion.
Utilizing these concepts, Johnston begins with a simple question that would confound the realist: why did China, operating between 1980 and 2000 in an era of threatening US power, particularly after the cold war, agree to co-operate in security institutions that, he claims, did little to enhance its power (p. xiii)? He then applies one of the three micro-processes to the most appropriate of five arms-control institutions: for mimicking, he looks at China and the Conference on Disarmament; for social influence, he studies China and the Comprehensive Test Ban Treaty (CTBT) and the Convention on Certain Conventional Weapons landmines protocol negotiations (1995-6); and for persuasion, he examines China's participation in the Association of South-East Asian Nations (ASEAN) regional forum.
These case studies are fascinating and valuable. Johnston analyses in microscopic detail the domestic institutional development which occurred in China as the result of its participation in the conference on disarmament, and the change in its discourse, if not its legislative implementation. Likewise, following extensive interviews with a range of actors, he plots China's changing bargaining positions on the CTBT, which it chose to sign in 1996, and on the revised landmines protocol to the Convention on Certain Conventional Weapons, as well as differences between the positions of the ministry of foreign affairs and those of the People's Liberation Army. Finally, viewing the ASEAN regional forum as a counter-Realpolitik institution with features conducive to the 'habits of co-operation', he shows how China was gradually 'persuaded' in this forum to move from public scepticism to informal articulations of mutual and common security and then to public affirmation of the concepts.
On the empirical side, some minor reservations suggest themselves. Johnston has not mentioned that, while it is significant from a socialization viewpoint that China finally chose to sign the CTBT, it is also significant, from a realist point of view, that it has not yet proceeded to the more meaningful act of ratification, precisely because the United States has not yet done so. I would not agree with his supporting thesis that the reason China does not co-operate on human rights is because the international community does not apply sufficient social pressure on it (p. 142). Johnston also claims that during the period under review, 1980-2000, domestic political change in China essentially held constant (p. 36). But is this the case? After 1991, just when the United States became most powerful, Deng Xiaoping ordered an about-face in relations with the United States by adopting the passive tactic of taoguangyanghui ('concealing capabilities and biding our time'). This was the reverse reaction from that which would be anticipated by socialidentity theory.
On the theoretical side, however, there are more weighty concerns with Johnston's thesis. First, in the understandable effort to obtain greater depth by focusing on individuals working within a specific forum, he tries to control for too many other aspects of the foreign-policy process. Can one control for national interest and domestic policies, particularly in an international institutional setting that involves states' interests so intimately? These representatives of the state are directed by the state, and the decisions they make are influenced by what is happening in the state itself. Also, competing state interests, such as those of the ministry of foreign affairs and the People's Liberation Army are often represented xxxi. 3: September 2009 within the same international institution. Most important, how can the lessons absorbed by individuals and small groups within international institutions feed back into China's domestic context with such impact that they prevail over the foreign-policy decisions made within China? In addition, how do you isolate a change in policy from the changes in the overall international environment? How can one also control for positive and negative sanctions?
Second, Johnston deals with only two opposing theories, and, except in a few instances, fails to discuss the pros and cons of others across the theoretical spectrum. He raises a few counter-examples to his thesis, but mainly discusses counter-interpretations of the same event from a realist viewpoint. This restricted focus precludes a more complex interpretation of what makes China change its behaviour.
Third, does social-identity theory itself really provide a sufficient basis on which to explain China's change? As Johnston points out, according to socialidentity theory, socialization can have opposite effects on policy, depending on which concept of identity is salient as an issue (p. 211). Therefore, can it be an explanation of what we are trying to learn about China? Surely, in the theory's own terms, the ultimate cause is what initially leads to the state's choice of identity; that is, there is always a problem of causation, distinguishing between dependent and independent variables, or between chicken and egg. Furthermore, aren't the three micro-processes quite different categories, even if often overlapping in their effects? Why are they tested separately? On his own admission, only one, persuasion, seems to lead directly to internalization of norms, and even then it can be persuasion for anti-social purposes. Is Johnston testing all three micro-processes as alternatives that prove/disprove deep internalization of norms, or is he trying to show that all are influential, in which case he is not testing for internalization?
This book is closely argued and is open in acknowledging many of the problems raised above. Nevertheless, the conclusions it reaches as the arguments evolve are different from those others might reach. In the conclusion, by contrast, Johnston seems to become more tentative, suggesting that, rather than accounting for socialization, the three micro-processes may be just one part of the explanation for China's changing behaviour (p. 208); that persuasion does not rule out realist arguments but offers an alternative set of arguments (p. 191); that it is difficult to 'blackbox' other aspects of the policy-making process (p. 183); that his thesis does not necessarily pertain across all international institutions (pp. 203-4); and, since socialization ultimately depends on the type of social identity adopted by the state actors, that it does not guard against a change to more anti-social behaviour (p. 212). This implies that the internalization of norms is not in itself a permanent state of affairs, so we are still not much better off in seeking an answer to the question of whether China's changes in arms-control institutions during this period is a reason for long-term international optimism. We still do not know if, and under what circumstances, China's foreign policy might return to a realist mode.
Johnston's book is outstanding as an empirical study, and represents an ambitious attempt to get to the source of some critical questions. If anyone could succeed in such an endeavour, Johnston could. But my feeling is that the sources of state policy are much too rich, complex, and diverse to fit into any single theoretical box, even though the socializing impact of interaction within international institutions is one vital source. negotiating from strength. Playing down the enormous increases in Soviet military power during the 1970s, the authors treat the Reagan defence build-up as senseless and provocative. Actually, it had strong bipartisan support in Congress, helped restore crisis stability, and provided Reagan the leverage he felt he lacked at the outset of his presidency to deal with Moscow on equal terms.

Australian National
Whether Gorbachev deserves the praise the authors lavish on him is questionable. A dedicated Communist, Gorbachev believed that through reforms (perestroika and glasnost) he could strengthen the Soviet system and restore it to competitive stature with the United States. He sought improved relations with the West, not, as the authors suggest, out of humanitarian concerns to ease tensions, but to give the Soviet Union a respite from years of onerous defence expenditures and wasteful economic programmes. Had he succeeded, the direction the Soviet Union would have taken is unclear. As it happened, by the time Gorbachev solidified his control in 1985, the Soviet system was so decayed that there was not much he could do to save it. To their credit, the authors acknowledge that the 'reforms' he initiated in many instances only made matters worse, so that when the collapse came in the abortive coup of 1991, few Russians shed any tears at Gorbachev's passing from power. Little wonder that he is practically forgotten in his own country.
The authors reserve their sharpest criticism for Reagan's anti-Communist policies in the third world -policies they find duplicitous, needless, and counterproductive. They naively dismiss Soviet and Cuban intervention in Africa and Central America as inconsequential and fail to grasp the important strategic considerations raised by the contest over Afghanistan. In treating these and other episodes, they display limited understanding of the policy process in Washington. Thus, Oliver North, the rogue Marine lieutenant colonel on the National Security Council Staff, receives five pages of attention, while Jeanne Kirkpatrick, Paul H. Nitze, Eugene Rostow, Edwin Rowney, the Joint Chiefs of Staff, Richard Perle, and Richard Burt -all people who played key policy roles -receive only passing mention.
I was disappointed with the book and expected fresh insights from scholars of such solid reputations. Perhaps its shortcomings will inspire others to realize that much serious work on the end of the cold war and the Reagan years still lies ahead. petition has given way to co-operation and dialogue. He cites joint institutional arrangements for economic exchange, joint energy bids in Iran and other countries, and joint naval exercises as examples of co-operation. In fact, it is not an either-or situation: China and India may compete in some areas and co-operate in others. True, two large fast-growing economies can mutually benefit from expanding trade and economic exchange in the era of globalization, but it took more than a decade for Indian leaders to realize that they could learn lessons from China and South-East Asia, long a region of dynamism and growth. 1 Moreover, border disputes between the two countries still remain unresolved and will in the foreseeable future: examples of friction include China's claim to Arunachal Pradesh in India and cancellation of a 'confidence building' trip of Indian officials to China in May 2007.
The book discusses China-India relations with particular reference to energy security, maritime relations, and bilateral dialogue. It is organized into five chapters which deal with the history of China-India relations since the Second World War, naval strategies of the two countries in the Indian Ocean, Sino-Indian economic liberalization, energy policies, and bilateral dialogue. In support of his argument, Athwal cites three factors: '(1) Sino-Indian economic integration, (2) soaring Chinese and Indian energy demands pushing towards convergence, and (3) a growing Sino-Indian elite consensus' (p. 5). However, chapter 3 fails to show any 'economic integration' between the two countries. Statements such as 'the share of bilateral trade in the total trade between China and India remains rather insignificant' (p. 93), 'bilateral investment remains quite low,' and 'Sino-Indian trade relationship is only in its infancy' (p. 97), hardly suggest any 'integration'.
There is no doubt that the two economies' demand for raw materials and energy supplies will continue to grow rapidly, which may lead to rivalry, for example a contest for oil and gas in Myanmar (B. Emmott, Rivals: How the Power Struggle between China, India, and Japan Will Shape Our Next Decade [London, 2008]). Further, one should not mistake a growing bilateral dialogue between India and China as a case of'consensus': Tibet and Pakistan remain bones of contention, while Emmott has rightly warned about the possibility that religion (Buddhism) in Tibet may 'overturn things'. To be fair, Athwal recognizes the above contentious issues (see pp. 119-22). The turn of events in future will be determined by reactions of China, India, and Tibet. Emmott notes 'Buddhist monasteries are the closest things to an alternative organizing force to the Communist Party' (Emmott, p. 239), and their moral authority and organizing ability can threaten the Chinese regime there depending on how the succession to the current the few former colonies that has been a democracy since achieving independence in 1947.
India, Rothermund thinks, has broken out of the self-imposed circle of isolation and is a confident player in today's globalized world. In less than eighteen years, its share of exports in gross domestic product (GDP) has grown from 6 to 16 per cent.
Water and power shortages are among the biggest obstacles to progress; indeed, anyone who has experienced them recently will realize the slowing-down impact they have on both economic and human development. Poverty eradication, however, is India's greatest challenge: one-third of its billion people live below the poverty line. Today 65 per cent of Indians are literate, but that is not enough for them to increase their life chances and choices, or for India to face the global technological challenges of the twenty-first century. That low level of literacy accounts, in part, for the fact that two-thirds of Indians eke out a living through agriculture, and contribute only 25 per cent of national income.
Economic growth is necessary for development, and wealth creation is essential for the introduction of a welfare state. Under the highly centralized rule of Indira Gandhi, the licensing system spread its tentacles, stifled initiative, became a source of corruption, and hampered the development necessary to uplift India's poor. Its dismantling in the 1990s facilitated an annual growth rate averaging 9 per cent. Consequently, more Indians have moved out of poverty in the last decade than in the preceding half-century, but some 200 million remain below the poverty line.
Always a land of contrasts, India's growing middle class has made it a global economic player -Laxmi Mittal (Arcelor), Tatas (Corus and Rolls-Royce), outsourcing, and software exports all come to mind. Trade in goods and services now accounts for 40 per cent of GDP. But India has some catching up to do: in i960, India's per capita GDP was higher than China's and 70 per cent that of South Korea; in 2008, it is less than 40 per cent that of China and of South Korea.
Rothermund could have said more about the decline in standards of governance, marked by an increase in political interference in administrative institutions since Indira Gandhi's premiership in the 1970s. This has caused a decline in official accountability. Political cronyism, with corruption as its natural corollary, has replaced the accountability of the Jawaharlal Nehru years, and in my view, is clearly a barrier to progress.
India's culture is diverse and dynamic, and Rothermund believes that it is 'casting its magic spell globally'. One would have to ask people on different continents if they agree with him on this one, for he is much enamoured of India. But there is no mistaking his masterly treatment of wide-ranging and complex political, social, economic, and cultural phenomena to justify his optimism about the country he has studied and experienced for fifty years. Two HUNDRED MILLION people, this book explains, spend at least one year of their lives outside their country of origin. Twenty million or more of them do so without the liberties and protections afforded to legal immigrants, and 'bring with their meagre belongings the traumatic baggage of war, genocide, poverty, political and social upheaval. Bowed under this load, they wander the world seeking entry, a gate in the solid walls of prejudice, suspicion, and apathy, which are raised at the first signs of their approach' (p. 10). The book is concerned with the representation of this group: the portrayal, or more accurately, want of portrayal, of refugees in museum exhibitions of migration; and the representation of refugees in the media, specifically in the context of the Australian government's response to asylum seekers in 2001.
There is no doubt that the study of representations of refugees and asylum seekers is timely and much needed. Their plight constitutes one of the great affronts of the early twenty-first century and presents a major challenge for governments and humanitarian organizations across the globe. This beautifully presented book provides an opportunity to assess the extent of their marginalization in society as evidenced in the important forums of museums and the media. The opening chapters by Jack Lohman and Philip Marfleet address representations of refugees in British museums and provide an introduction to the book's key issues. The first substantive section, by Katherine Goodnow, examines in much more detail the particular challenges museums confront in incorporating refugees in their portrayals of the story of migration. Drawing upon eight exhibitions on migration in Australian and New Zealand museums, Goodnow describes various museums' strategies for expanding their repertoires: drawing attention to the challenges and disruption of'the journey'; attending more fully to the harshness of the migration process; adopting landscape as a measure of change; and considering in a more nuanced way change over time.
In the second and longer part of the book, Goodnow's attention shifts from museums to the group of asylum seekers on the Norwegian ship Tampa that was intercepted by Australian authorities in 2001 and the aftermath of their detention. Influenced by theorists includingjulia Kristeva, she sets out at considerable length a theoretical apparatus to guide the remainder of the study. Competing representations of refugees exist, from people whose presence threatens the integrity of national borders to groups deserving of compassion. Goodnow is concerned with understanding the interaction of these frames and the propensity of one or another to be ascendant at any time. She is well aware of the need for such analysis to be rooted in specific contexts and contends, correctly, that 'understanding how people described and "read" the events that unrolled during the time of the xxxi. 3: September 2009

7«3
Tampa, and after it, calls for understanding some specific features of context both within Australia and outside it' (p. 88).
Most historians would agree that, to be valuable, theory should be underpinned by sound empirical data and rigorous scholarship. Regrettably, this book shows a number of disconcerting signs of ineffectual and incomplete research. It is frankly disturbing to see Wikipedia used as a source for Australia's mandatory detention policy, usage that would not pass muster in the footnotes of a freshman essay in most history departments with which I am familiar (p. 99 n. 20). Elsewhere, the book displays a troubling lack of understanding of aspects of Australia's migration history. For example, it is asserted that in the period 1890-1950 'the dominant internal image was of a country that had a large enough population and that could afford to be very selective about any new arrivals' (p. 93). Goodnow seems to be unaware of the intense and well-documented anxiety about 'race suicide' that was aroused in the early twentieth century by the sharp decline of the nation's birth rate; the wide-ranging debates of the 1920s about the future population capacity of the Australian continent; and the continuing attempts in the pre-Depression years to recruit assisted immigrants from Britain.
More generally, the unusual numbers of quotations that pepper the later chapters of the book deprive the argument of much of its continuity and make that part of the text unsatisfying to read. It is a pity that a book so lavishly produced and richly illustrated fails to deliver more effectively its stories of crisis, control, and compassion. To A HISTORIAN, this book by a political scientist is of considerable interest and usefulness. The author, Andrew Hurrell, like his mentor Hedley Bull, tries to combine 'power' and 'values' in his examination of international society. Going a step beyond Bull, however, Hurrell conceives of this society as an arena for the interaction of'the state, the market, and civil society', and pays closer attention to how they impact on the regulation of 'transnational forces and transnational spaces' (p. 6). The stress here seems to be on the relative decline of the sovereign state's role in international relations; instead, the book emphasizes 'the deepening of interstate governance, the roles played by civil society, and the importance of markets and economic governance' (p. 7). Historians of international relations can only welcome such a perspective. For too long, the political science literature was dominated by considerations of state xxxi. 3: September 2009 power and interests, whereas historians have been paying attention to economic, social, and cultural ingredients (even foundations) of international order for the last several decades. The time may be approaching when historians, political scientists, economists, and others may collaborate in illuminating the past and analysing the present, something Hurrell also advocates. The current global economic crisis might seem to provide an ideal opportunity for such collaboration. Unfortunately, however, this book was written before the crisis and so adds rather little to our understanding of the parallels between 1929, let's say, and 2008, or between 1931 and 2009. However, we shall certainly find useful Hurrell's formulation that the 'changes associated with globalization and the increased interaction and connectedness across global society have undermined ... both the practical viability and the moral acceptability of a traditional state-based pluralism ' (p. 297).

University of Auckland
In what other ways might a book like this contribute to historical understanding? Hurrell's chronology seems rather conventional. Thus, he speaks of'the pre-1914 world' (p. 51) and of the 'post-cold war period ' (pp. 76,137). Some historians, at least, have begun to question and transcend such a chronology determined by wars. If Hurrell is really interested in going beyond a state-centric perspective, shouldn't he devise a more original chronology? For instance, to the extent that he is keen on integrating market forces into his account of international society, the 'pre-1931 world' may make more sense than the pre-1914 framework, or the 'post-Plaza (1985) world' than the vague 'post-cold war' periodization.
Still, students of international history can only welcome Hurrell's quest for 'a practically more viable and morally more acceptable form of global political order' (p. 12). Throughout the book, he reverts to the subject of'law and norms' and reiterates the importance of'the role played by changes in the legal and normative climate' (p. 279). While his primary concern is with the present and the future, historians will surely benefit from making use of such a perspective. For instance, have there been instances in the past when a global order that was both practicable and moral was established, or was envisaged? Paul W. Schroeder's The Trans formation of European Politics, 1763Politics, -1848Politics, (1994 suggests that the Vienna system of 1815 may have been such an order in which politics and morality coexisted, at least in Europe. Erez Manela's The Wilsonian Moment (2007;rev. ante, xxx [2008], 867) expands the picture to the rest of the world in showing that Woodrow Wilson's vision embraced most of the world. One may question, however, whether these systems were really 'practically viable', 'morally acceptable', and 'global'. As Adam McKeown has shown in Melancholy Order (2008), or Marilyn Lake and Henry Reynolds in Drawing the Global Colour Line (2008; reviewed p. 643), international relations during the nineteenth century and well into the twentieth were more imperial than global in character, and racial equality, one of the most 'moral' of values, was totally neglected. In this respect, it may not have been until the 1960s that a world order built on interstate co-operation and human rights finally came into existence, or at least was conceptualized globally. But even xxxi. 3: September 2009 then, the political and moral dimensions of world order would seem to have remained less than well integrated.
Rather than seeking ways to find 'linkages' (p. 110) between these two factors, plus market forces, the third dimension in Hurrell's scheme, historians may prefer to see them as concurrent or parallel phenomena. At least in the past, these three were not fully interconnected, and each developed with its own momentum. Here would seem to be a fruitful arena for dialogue between history and international relations theory. WITH HIS BOOK, Bassam Tibi is bound to attract the critical enfilading fire of Muslims and non-Muslims alike. The style is pugnacious. Tibi writes in the first person, quotes himself (and the notable heritage of the Tibi family) repeatedly, and loses few opportunities to snipe at scholars with whom he either disagrees (a list that includes J. O. Voll, John Esposito, James Piscatori, Albert Hourani, and §erif Mardin), or, from his remark in a footnote (p. 261) that 'some authors believe they have seen the true face of Tariq Ramadan', actively seems to dislike. He has no time for 'Westerners' trying to teach him 'not only objectivity and scholarship but also my own Islamic culture' (p. xviii), or for peer reviewers ('peer-group reading is a power game not a scholarly assessment and evaluation', p. 13). Tibi makes one tendentious claim after another. He argues (partly on the spurious basis that the word dawla or state was not in usage in the seventh century) that the first Islamic community was not a state, when it is clear that without developing the characteristics of a state (law, a system of justice, and an army), the umma (the Muslim community) could not have survived, let alone expanded. He separates Islam as faith from what he calls 'Islamisation' or the politicization of Islam, when it is clear that politics and Islam have been entwined in symbiotic fashion from the beginning. He emphasizes jihad as the means of spreading Islam, when jihad in Islamic history was primarily used as a mechanism to mobilize Muslims in the cause of wars launched for territorial, dynastic, or state reasons. Dogma invariably came second to statecraft in the life of'Islamic' states. Hasan al-Banna is described as the founder of the 'first fundamentalist movement in Islam' (the Muslim Brotherhood) in 1928 (p. xvi) and Jamal al-Din al-Afghani as the 'first revivalist Muslim leader' (p. 8) when fundamentalism or revivalism (however defined) have been part of the Islamic project from the beginning. He argues (p. 107) that Palestine, Iraq, Lebanon, and Afghanistan could not be the reason for

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Hasan al-Banna's jihadism because they did not exist as issues at the time. In fact, obviously, Palestine, Iraq, Lebanon, and Syria were all occupied by 'Western' armies in 1928 and were definitely 'issues' then. As for occupation in contemporary history, Tibi's reference to Hezbollah's 'terrorist irregulars' (p. 102) will offend any reader familiar with Israeli atrocities in Lebanon over many decades and Hezbollah's rise as a movement of resistance to Israel's long occupation of the southern part of the country.
Tibi, naturally, discusses the 'clash of civilizations', noting (p. 113) that he published a book on the subject a year ahead of Hungtington's Clash. He shares the view of US 'neo-conservatives' that the 'nuclear proliferation' of Iran is a 'threat to world politics [sic] and foremost to Europe itself (pp. 26-7), without saying why we should regard Iran as a greater threat to 'world politics' than any other nuclearized state. He highlights jihadi violence but not the far greater violence committed against Muslims by the standard bearers of 'Western civilization'. In all but name, from Napoleon's entry into Egypt in 1798 to the US invasion of Iraq in 2003, the 'West' has been carrying out its own secular jihad against Muslim societies for the past two centuries.
Tibi dwells on the Islamic threat to Europe, as manifested in bomb attacks in Madrid and London, in the murder of Theo van Gogh in the Netherlands, and in the inflammatory rhetoric of sundry imams. One has to be careful not to understate the dangers, but it is clear that the vast bulk of European Muslims are not interested in jihad and do not regard Islam as being incompatible with a modern lifestyle. Neither is there any evidence that the majority of Muslims anywhere are uncomfortable with democracy. In the Middle East, it is what they seem to want most of all but cannot get, for reasons that lie outside their religion. Overall, this is a provocative, deeply conservative, and polemical book, useful for students discussing the causes of the 'clash of civilizations' and the nature of the 'Islamic threat', but by no means amounting to a definitive study of 'global jihad', Euro-Islam, or any of the other issues discussed. 'ethnic linguistic fractionalisation index' (pp. 12-13) convincingly demonstrates the lack of correlation between ethnic diversity, however measured, and conflict. Yet observers and participants believe in high correlations as they start with conflict and work back to 'causes', understanding ethnicity as primordial and prone to conflict. Laitin attributes more significance to the 'weak state' that permits, indeed inadvertently encourages, movements claiming to represent ethnic groups to challenge both it and/or other ethnic groups.
Having rejected primordialism, chapter 2 begins with Ernest Renan's lecture of 1882, which presented national identity as choice. However, Laitin notes that individuals choose in interdependent interaction. Game theory enables one to model such interaction, but the elements of this model, however, must be amenable to analysis. Laitin proposes language as a proxy for national identity because it is measurable, central to nationalist claims, and, although a matter of choice, the cost involved requires serious decision-making.
To align language and identity choice, Laitin argues that people claim attributes (for example, skin colour) that assign them to categories (for example, black) which fit into dimensions (for example, race): The politics of ethnicity involves three major processes. People invest in attributes for purposes of qualifying for membership in another category in the process of assimilation; political entrepreneurs expand or contract category space, for example, the creation of the census category 'mixed-race', to induce new coalitions; and ethnic entrepreneurs work to increase the salience of a dimension -for example, mullahs promoting religion as the salient dimension over clanship -to expand their authority (p. 37).
Laitin conducts game analysis with payoffs for the central or peripheral language. He argues one can move from an equilibrium in which one language is dominant in the direction of the other language until one reaches a 'tipping point' where it becomes rational to choose the other language. This is a powerful model for analysing language choice and change. Whether it can be used predictively, given problems of identifying and measuring preferences and the incentives and sanctions that operate upon them, is another matter. The clear, parsimonious terminology of attributes, categories, and dimensions provides a framework for locating the 'hegemonic' dimension of political identity. When politics stabilizes around such a dimension, it will appear 'primordial'. I take this usage of 'hegemony' from Laitin's book Hegemony and Culture: Politics and Religious Change among the Yoruba (1986). Laitin's use of this concept shows why language does not work as a proxy for national identity. Laitin argued that rational choice theory cannot explain why one 'dimension' rather than another underpins political identity, indeed, hardly extends beyond explaining 'marginal' choices made within stable frameworks. He treated 'identity as meaning' as something distinct from 'identity as strategic resource', and argued that the former cannot be a matter of choice unless there is no hegemony. One xxxi. 3: September 2009 could dispute this latter argument that regards the pluralist use of cultural identity in US politics as indicative of the absence of hegemony, but it is irrelevant to situations where nationalist movements seek to render their preferred dimension hegemonic. Thus Laitin treats language as the hegemonic dimension of identity and as a resource which people use strategically. That is fine provided two procedures are deployed and then connected into a fuller account. However, by making language a 'proxy' for identity, Laitin collapses these two aspects into one.
The final two chapters are speculative and normative. Laitin recapitulates his view that treating culture as co-ordination of individual interactions enables one to overcome the false antithesis between instrumental and primordial understandings of ethnic identity. He argues that nineteenth-and twentieth-century processes that equated nation with state no longer operate, as populations become increasingly diverse and multilingual, and states increasingly tolerate internal autonomies and external sharings of power. Chapter 5 considers normative issues, asking how this emerging world of multinational, non-sovereign states can be managed so to be both economically efficient (seeming to call for cultural, including linguistic homogeneity) and socially just (seeming to call for respect for cultural and linguistic diversity). Laitin supports his argument that a balance is possible by recalling his earlier treatment of language choice and diversity as complex forms of social interaction that can be analysed as co-ordination problems. However, as an earlier Laitin made clear, the connections between culture and politics are more complex than that and give grounds for a less sanguine view of the future.